The Thirteenth Earl Read Online Free PDF Page B

intrusion.
    “What a nice surprise, Lord Thaxton,” she said, with forced sincerity. Eliza hated when things did not go according to her plans, and Thaxton at the private breakfast had not been in her plan, he knew. “We expected just Miles and Cassandra.” She took in his appearance. “You look well.”
    “I feel magnificent,” he said, which was the truth.
    Spencer laughed. “Wonders never cease. Say, Thaxton, we were about to invite Miles and Cassandra to tour the gardens. You are welcome to join us.”
    Thaxton saw Eliza flick her eyes at her husband in reprimand.
    “Thank you, Spencer,” he said. “I think I will.”
    He rose, pushing his empty plate away.
    “Finish your food, Cassie,” Eliza said, seeing that Cassandra had been about to stand. Thaxton’s weird ebullience verged on disconcerting. He gave her a lazy smile as the countess continued. “Relax, talk with Mr. Markwick, and meet us in the garden when you’re through.”
    “Thank you, Countess,” Miles said, as if he had been holding a breath in for a very long time.
    Thaxton followed the Spencers as they left, but he could not resist clapping Miles on the back on the way out. Miles glared at him, and he returned the dazzling smile he normally reserved for placating children.
    Spencer grabbed Thaxton’s arm and held him back as Eliza went ahead, floating as she always did. They strolled down the hallway to the outside while they talked.
    “I have seen that look before. You kissed that girl,” he said. “Might be a bad move, mate.”
    “To be fair—she kissed me.”
    “However it happened. I am sure you put up a fight.”
    Thaxton could have argued that point. He felt he had presented Miss Seton with some very good reasons as to why they should not embrace. For Spencer’s sake, he did not press it. He just said, “It was inevitable.”
    “Even so. The only outcome of this is trouble. You will ruin the house party with scandal, and Eliza will have my head on a stick.”
    The countess looked back. “What are you two whispering about?”
    “I never whisper”—Spencer smiled at her—“outside of the bedroom.”
    He lifted the heavy latch on the gate to the gardens—a giant arching monstrosity, old as the ground it was hammered into and elaborately structured with lengths of metal vine. The sunlight shone through it, casting the pattern in shadow on the grass.
    All the way back to the first countess, Spencer House’s gardens had been improved and expanded by the lady of the house but never changed in any significant way. This gave the vast area a kind of stylized disorder, an equation with unequal parts. Eliza had added the newest piece—the butterfly clearing comprising flowers that were known to attract the winged insects—which she had yet to properly name. Not all of her predecessors had been so discerning. The third countess had built a copse of sculptures but had been unable to stop buying them, so that area became overrun with cherubs and angels and goddesses. The seventh countess did not have a knack for devising landscapes, so the Marion Quarter, as her contribution was called, exploded with clashing colors and contrasting plants. The fifth countess devised the giant hedge labyrinth.
    Thaxton stopped in the main clearing. He could hear an orchestra warming up for a luncheon concert, Miss Seton would be joining them, and there had been no frenzied letters from his father. Air brushed his face lightly, a novelty since shaving the beard.
    It felt like a good day.

    After an hour at breakfast, Cassandra thought that Miles Markwick was handsome, well spoken, and amiable, but she did not want to marry him. He kept talking, doggedly saying nothing of import. It was almost as if he was afraid that letting her talk would be dangerous. She would have the chance to bring up their long estrangement.
    “We should join the others in the garden, don’t you think, my dear?” Markwick’s smile thinned his lips. She could not help