Her Errant Earl Read Online Free PDF Page B

would.” He flashed her a smile that she
couldn’t quite decipher. “May I ask you something, my dear?”
    “You may.” She stilled in the act of sampling Mrs. Rufton’s
rich soup. “But I cannot promise an answer.”
    His smile deepened, and it served to only enhance the
startling effect of his good looks. “Everyone, from the new housekeeper to Mrs.
Rufton to the very proper Wilton, has been raving about how wonderful a
mistress you are. I can see much has changed, and yet when I arrived, there was
an inordinate amount of dust in my chamber. Why?”
    She felt her cheeks go warm. Oh dear. It seemed her
husband’s newfound skills of observation extended to all matters. She was
embarrassed that he’d caught her childish act of defiance. “You were not
mistaken.” She paused. “I directed Mrs. Morton to tell the housemaids not to
touch your chamber.”
    “Indeed?”
    “I had no reason to think you’d be returning any time soon,”
she added hastily. “But I must admit that I was also hoping that should you
return you’d suffer a very unpleasant welcome.”
    He laughed at her admission, the sound loud and pleasant to
her ears. She realized she’d never before heard him laugh. At least, she
reasoned, he wasn’t angry with her for allowing the dust to grow in his
chamber. Lord knew it had given her endless amounts of satisfaction to imagine
him sneezing away in it during the months of his absence.
    “I daresay you won that battle, my dear. I’m sure I was
sneezing my wits out all evening when I first arrived.”
    She shared his smile, aware she was ever falling more under
his potent spell. “You deserved it, my lord.”
    “William,” he reminded her.
    “William,” she said, trying his Christian name on her tongue
for the first time. William seemed fitting, somehow. Pembroke had been the
rogue husband who’d abandoned her. It was as if William was the charming,
perceptive man who’d taken his place.
    His expression sobered. “I confess I do like hearing my name
on your lovely lips.”
    She forced herself to recall the awful months he’d left her
to cavort with other women in London, lest she throw herself at him there in
the dining room. “You deserved it, William,” she said pointedly before
returning her attention to her soup.
    “Touché.” He raised his wine goblet to her in mock salute.
“But I still enjoy hearing you say my name.”
    She looked back up at him. “But I’m sure you’ve grown
accustomed to hearing it on the lips of many other ladies .” The emphasis
she put upon the word left no doubt that she did not think any of them had been
ladies at all.
    “Am I to be forever reminded of my past misdeeds?”
    It was her turn to raise a brow. “Until you’ve proven you’ve
changed for good, yes. I remind myself as much as I remind you.” For her own
self-preservation, she added silently.
    “I’ve told you before that I never wanted to hurt you,
Victoria.” He put down his spoon. “My battle is with my father, not you, and I
will forever regret that you were caught up in the crossfire.”
    The acknowledgment seemed genuine. But she didn’t know if it
was enough. “Thank you,” she offered simply. “I am gratified you have realized
that much, at least.”
    “You are most welcome.” He studied her intently. “Now, I
find I’ve tired of the soup course. Have you?”
    Her turtle soup had long gone cold. She nodded, watching
warily as he rose from the table and stalked toward her. He stopped when he was
at her side, leaning his hip negligently against the table. He reached out,
framing her face with his large hands.
    “We both know I never wanted to be a husband when I married
you,” he said at last, his tone grave.
    His acknowledgment had an air of deep candor to it, far more
than his effortless flirtation and charming grins did. She searched his bright
gaze, wondering if she could trust him. Wondering if she should. It occurred to
her that what had happened in the past did