The Cheer in Charming an Earl(11)

Grantham’s head slanted as if she’d caught his interest with that. “Your brother is a blacksmith?”

She nodded, uncertain whether she’d just doomed herself in his eyes or not. But he was bound to discover her humble origins eventually, and she didn’t want him to regret marrying a commoner by accident. Besides, he had hidden her away in the servants’ quarters and refused her request to dine at his table. Clearly, he suspected she wasn’t of his ilk.

“Do I know you?” he asked abruptly.

Her eyes widened. Should she answer truthfully? Or would he toss her in his carriage and ferry her straight back to Gavin if she reminded him where they’d crossed paths?

It wasn’t a risk she wanted to take. “We’ve never met, my lord,” she answered honestly.

“Oh.” He set his hand on the door’s knob. Then he looked at her again. “Christmas is a rotten time to be away from one’s family. Were you on your way home?”

Again, she only just resisted the urge to shift uneasily. “I was traveling to visit my aunt. She’s ailing.”

His hand fell from the knob. “Then I shall escort you the moment the weather clears! Is it far?”

Blast again. While she would feel conscience-stricken if Aunt Millie breathed her last while she was delaying here, she had no reason to believe her aunt in danger of dying this week, nor did she think her company particularly desired. Had she not written to Aunt Millie pleading for a respite from her tedium of a life, she wouldn’t have been invited to Yorkshire at all. “It’s not far,” she said truthfully, “but I’m not sure I’m quite ready to set foot inside another carriage yet.” She gave him her best hopeful expression. Only another small, white lie. “I’d much prefer to recover here, if it’s no trouble to you.”

Then she held her breath. She had so little time to succeed before she was found out. Approximately a fortnight to make him fall in love with her, for surely after a week had passed without word, Aunt Millie would write to Elinor’s mother asking if she’d decided not to come after all.

Grantham’s brow creased. “That furrow between your brows… Does your head bother you? I’ll have a tincture of laudanum sent in.”

She quickly smoothed her countenance. “It’s not that. I’m just…scared.”

“There, there,” he said, leaving the door to approach her. As he came closer, she caught the increasingly familiar whiff of smoke and brandy. Suddenly he wrapped her in his arms and rocked her back and forth gently. “Your tumble gave you a fright, that’s all.”

His breath against her hair and the warm solidness of his chest was the most comforting, charming experience of her life. Oh, Grantham. He was every bit as gallant as she’d always believed.

“See?” He pulled away to look into her face. His chin was so close, she could kiss it. Tiny golden stubble decorated it, as if he hadn’t bothered to shave that morning. And his gray eyes were so honest, she lost herself a moment.

“See?” he said again. “Nothing to worry about.”

Oh, but he was wrong. Because just as he said the words, his eyelids fluttered half-closed. Those soft-looking lips parted. She braced her palms on his chest and lifted her face up to his, letting her eyelids fall closed, too.

“I’m not scared now,” she murmured when nothing seemed to happen. Wasn’t he about to kiss her? She opened her eyes slightly. He was staring at her with a desire even she recognized. It was coupled with suspicious confusion.

Without warning, he set her firmly away from him. He took a step back. Both hands splayed at his sides, almost as if he still felt her under his palms. “Miss Conley, I don’t maul innocents. I’m not that sort of man.”

“Oh!” She clapped a hand to her mouth and widened her eyes in feigned maidenly offense. “Were you about to kiss me?”

Some of his suspicion was replaced with embarrassment, much to her relief. “I think I was. How terribly inappropriate of me.”

She tried not to sigh. Yes, terribly. But he didn’t seem to want to believe she’d been a willing party, so she cast her eyes downward. “You think me fast.”

“I don’t!” He seemed horrified by the charge, and she felt guilty for befuddling him, but she couldn’t risk him eyeing her with suspicion again.

He shook his head as if to clear it. “I merely wanted to comfort you, and then I suppose…” He shook his head quickly once more, then stepped back even farther. “I’m not made of brimstone,” he muttered.

What an odd thing to say.