Romancing the Earl (6 page)

“You were thinking it plenty loud enough.”

“I wasn’t, actually.” He led her from the dining room, following the other couples. “I was merely trying to determine if I recalled how to dance. It’s been an age. And since we seem to have been paired off this evening, it occurred to me that I should partner you.”

She blinked up at him. “There was no dancing in Australia?”

“Very little. There weren’t many social occasions.”

She cocked her head to the side. “What did you do for entertainment?”

“I read, though finding books was sometimes a challenge. I rode my horse and explored the area.”

“Did you bring your horse back with you?”

“No.” Was there a touch of regret to his tone? She rather thought so, but didn’t remark upon it. “Just my batman, who is now my valet.”

They strolled into the great hall where Fox was pouring brandy for the gentlemen and Miranda was giving directions to the boy at the pianoforte. “Reading and riding? That sounds a bit dull. You had no other pursuits—a hobby, perhaps?”

“A hobby?” Something flickered over his features. “I was quite busy leading a regiment, Miss Bowen.”

She withdrew her arm from his. “I saw something there. You’re a secretive gentleman, are you not?”

“I might say guarded.” He gazed down at her, his blue-gray eyes probing. “Adding to my traits again?”

“Oh, I’m not adding to them. I’m identifying them.” She ticked off her fingers. “Infuriating, suspicious, stubborn, secretive—sorry,
guarded
.”

He blinked at her in mock affront. “Have I no features to recommend me?”

“I’ll let you know after the dance.”

Albert started to play a country dance and they formed a square. With Lady Olivia, who wasn’t particularly spry given her pregnancy, and Norris, who was clearly out of practice, it wasn’t the most accurate of endeavors, but it was terribly fun. By the end, they were all flushed and laughing, even Lord Norris. Then Albert started a waltz. Everyone paired off, save Cate and Norris. He offered a courtly bow and she curtseyed in formal response.

His hand clasped her waist and he swept her into the dance. “I’ll try not to step on your toes.”

“I’m sure you’ll be quite adept.”

He arched a blond brow and gave her the skeptical stare she was coming to expect from him. Suspicious indeed. “You saw me during that cotillion, did you not?”

She chuckled. He’d made a few missteps, but overall appeared a good dancer, particularly for someone who hadn’t done it in a long while. “The waltz moves much slower.” She looked up at him in alarm. “Goodness, do you even know how to waltz? You were on the other side of the world when it came to England.”

Given how he’d taken her into his embrace and now steered her through the steps, he clearly did. “Just as books came to us on ships, so did new dances and clothing and other items and activities from home.”

“So you
did
dance?”

“I never said I didn’t. It’s just been a long time. I left Australia last September.” His fingers dug lightly,
pleasurably,
into her waist as he turned her.

A tremor rippled through her, but she refused to consider the possibility that it was because of him. “That must be a harrowing journey. And you’ve done it twice.”

“I don’t know that it’s harrowing, but it’s certainly boring.”

She gave him a knowing look. “You see, you should have had a hobby.”

His lip lifted in a half-smile. “Such as searching for antiquities?”

She didn’t think he meant his comment as an affront, and didn’t take it that way. But she wanted him to understand what most people didn’t—that she was passionate about being an antiquary and considered it an occupation. “It’s more than a hobby to me. I have an affinity for all manner of artifacts. I like to hold an object and imagine the care and skill that went into crafting it. Such as my necklace.”

His gaze dipped to her pendant. “What is it?”

“A silver piece from a trove that was found in Somerset a few years ago. It’s from the ninth or tenth century, based on its design and the items found with it.”

“You knew that just by looking at it?” He sounded genuinely interested, unlike most gentlemen she met.

“Somewhat, but that’s after years of reading books and papers, viewing antiquities, and discussing such topics with other antiquaries. Well, those who will talk to me,” she added without bothering to hide her derision.

He twirled her expertly, and she decided he wasn’t as rusty at dancing as he’d said. Or at least, he was better at waltzing. “Why won’t they talk to you?” he asked. “Do you pester them as you do me?”

“No, I do not.” They’d fallen into a pattern of teasing each other, and she enjoyed it more than she probably ought. “They don’t talk to me because I’m female. Some antiquaries think I have no business nosing about in
their
interests.”

“I admit I find your—vocation . . . is that an appropriate word?—surprising. Most women of your station would be married by now and managing their own households.”

She couldn’t tell what he thought of that. Most men were disdainful of her work. “I can’t think of anything more tedious than managing a household.”

“Now, that is an opinion we share. Does that mean you have no interest in Society?”

“I haven’t even had a Season.” She hadn’t wanted one, and her parents hadn’t encouraged it. Her mother and father had found each other in an unconventional fashion and fallen deeply in love. In their experience, a Season wasn’t only unnecessary, it was perhaps a hindrance to truly finding your love match if you weren’t interested in adhering to Society’s rules. Which her family was not. They were scholars, explorers, antiquaries.

“Fascinating,” he said softly, perhaps even admiringly.
 

The music drew to a close and he brought her to a halt. His hand dropped from her waist and she reluctantly removed her hand from his shoulder. Reluctantly?

Miranda clapped, thankfully drawing Cate’s attention from Norris. “Thank you so much, Albert,” Miranda said. “Wasn’t he wonderful, everyone?”

Others joined her applause and Albert stood, blushing. He bowed smartly before departing.

“There are some refreshments here if you’re inclined.” Miranda gestured to the sideboard, where Fox had poured out brandy earlier. There was also sherry for the ladies.

“Would you like anything?” Norris asked politely.

“A glass of sherry wouldn’t come amiss,” she said.

He took himself to the sideboard to fetch their beverages, and Cate moved to the side of the room, to a pair of chairs. She didn’t intend to sit, just to move out of the center of the hall.

Miranda sidled up beside her. “Lord Norris seems interested in you.”

Cate watched the earl talk with Fox at the sideboard as their host poured the drinks. “He doesn’t either. We’re just the only two unmatched people here.”

Miranda exhaled. “That’s true. I’m afraid I’m a hopeless matchmaker.”

Cate patted the back of her hair, unused to wearing it in such an intricate style. She typically wore it in a simple knot or, on occasion, even loose. “As I’ve told you before, I don’t need a match.”

“So you say, but trust me when I tell you that you’re missing out on one of life’s best pleasures.”

Cate wasn’t sure exactly which pleasures she referred to and didn’t want to ask, lest it invite questions as to why an unmarried miss like her was versed in such matters. Instead, she steered the conversation in a more seemly direction. “Marriage, you mean?”

Miranda’s aqua eyes lit. “Love, silly.”

“Yes, love
is
silly.” Cate didn’t necessarily believe that, but she didn’t concern herself with love at all. She subscribed to what her parents had told her—that it would happen in due time if she was meant to find it. Their pragmatism appealed to her logical mind.

“You only say that because you haven’t felt it.” Miranda looked over at Norris, who had scooped up their drinks and was now heading toward them. “I still contend Norris is interested.”

Cate wholeheartedly disagreed. Yet they’d managed to enjoy their dances and even converse rather genially . . .

Miranda floated away as Norris arrived with Cate’s sherry.

“I didn’t mean to drive Lady Miranda away,” he said, handing Cate the glass.

Cate took a fortifying drink. “You didn’t. She was trying to play matchmaker, but I set her straight.”

His brows shot up for a brief moment. “You did?”

“I’m not interested in making a match, and I have the sense you aren’t either.”

“You are correct,” he said quickly. “I’m far too busy learning how to be a bloody earl.” He winced at his language. “Forgive me, it’s a difficult adjustment from my previous life to this one.”

“I can imagine.” Cate behaved differently in social settings like this than when she and Grey were out searching for antiquities, so she understood what he meant. “For what it’s worth, that sort of language doesn’t offend my sensibilities.”

He peered at her with an odd expression. Curiosity? Disbelief? Respect? Perhaps all of them. “You’re an interesting female.”

She looked at him over the rim of her glass. “Does this mean I’m to have my own list of characteristics?”

“It seems only fair.” He sipped his brandy. “I’d add persistent.”

She laughed. “Very astute. Lest I disappoint you, permit me to carry on. I won’t allow you to ignore my quest for the tapestry. I intend to find it.”

“How, if I don’t help you?”

“I’m not certain, but I’ll find a way. It would, however, be far simpler—and more charitable—if you would deign to offer assistance.”

He took another pull on his brandy, his gaze never leaving hers. As at Cosgrove, she felt a shock of icy heat as she bore his perusal.

Shoving the bothersome sensation away, she plodded ahead. “I understand your brother spent a great deal of money and that you’re likely trying to refill the coffers. It’s why you want to sell the antiquities collection, isn’t it?”

“Not entirely.” His tone was guarded. “I find it a dust-collecting jumble of nonsense.”

She longed to show him how wrong he was. “I should love to walk through Cosgrove with you and show you just how incredible some of those pieces are.”

His gaze dropped to her pendant once more. “Your passion for them is almost persuasive.”

His use of the word “passion” provoked another stirring response, but this one carried more fire, blooming inside of her and spreading warmth to her extremities. “I could help you determine which items would garner the most money and you could sell those first.”

He tipped his head to the side, considering. “In exchange for my helping you to find the tapestry?”

“Of course—keeping in mind, I’ll still pay you for it once it’s located.”

“I already have another antiquary who’s offered to help with the collection.”

Bollocks.
“Who?”

“Lord Septon. Do you know him?”

Bollocks
again
. Septon had contacted Norris? Had he mentioned the tapestry? He’d seen it at Cosgrove for many years and Cate had to wonder if he he’d ever tried to buy it. But of course the previous earl was notorious for never parting with his treasures.

Or—and this was a far more troubling thought—had Septon puzzled out the map and gone on to find Dyrnwyn already? Cate swallowed against a rising sense of unease. “Yes, I know him quite well. You didn’t inform him that I came to see you?”

His lips curved up slightly, displaying a rare bit of humor. “No, I thought that was a secret.”

“It is. Thank you for keeping it as such.” She took a drink of sherry to try to quell her tumultuous nerves. “What can I do to persuade you? You need money. What if I offered you five hundred pounds for the tapestry?”

Surprise flickered in his eyes. “Five hundred pounds for a magical sword? I’m not sure that’s enough.”

“You don’t have Dyrnwyn.” She fought to keep her voice low.

He leaned close. “I’m probably closer to it than you are.”

“You wouldn’t know what to do with the map if you found it.”

“Now it’s an ‘if’ I found it? I thought you were convinced I would find it.”

She sensed he was provoking her on purpose. “Very, very infuriating,” she said under her breath. “I’m a generally optimistic person, and as such, yes, I choose to believe you
will
find the tapestry.”

“Or it could be gone. What if someone else found it first?”

Now she was all but certain he was taunting her. The unease rolling around inside of her became full anxiety. “You’re a beast.”

“I’m pragmatic,” he said softly, moving subtly closer. “I don’t wish to cause you concern, and I can see from the creases in your forehead that I’m doing just that. There’s no telling where my brother hid the map and whether it’s still there.”

She stood her ground, unsure if he was even aware that he’d crept toward her. While she was completely aware of every breath he drew. “You said your brother spent time in London. What about his house there?”

“It was leased, so I’m afraid I no longer have access.”