The Earl's Perfect Match (Sebastiano series) Read online

  “Are you interested in Lord Shelton?” Christina asked with a sly smile.

  “Oh, goodness, no. Everyone knows he is only good for a night’s pleasure,” Lady Rosamund said, without the slightest hint of a blush. “No, I mean Lord Dunning.”

  “But what about the curse?” Cordelia asked.

  Lady Rosamund waved away the question as if it were a pesky insect. “I’ve told you, I don’t believe in curses. Things happen—tragic things—and there isn’t anything anyone can do to prevent them. Never mind that this house could use a woman’s touch.” She smiled at them, her back going even straighter. “My touch.”

  Elena returned her smile, but it was forced. She was having second thoughts about matching the lady with Lord Dunning, and it had little to do with Rosamund’s desire to redecorate Dunning Court. Actually, if she was honest with herself, she was coming to regret ever agreeing to help him at all.

  This realization only served to drag her spirits lower, and by the time they reached the dining room, she wanted only to turn about and run upstairs, to hide in her room the way Claudia did. But she managed to hold on, even smiled as she was introduced to even more people whose names she’d never remember. Lady This and Lord That, and Mr. and Mrs. Important and their daughter Miss Important. It was too much to take in.

  It seemed that every time she looked in Lord Dunning’s direction, he quickly jerked his head away, as if he’d been staring at her the entire time. There were four people seated between her and the earl, so conversation was impossible. Since she knew only his lordship, her brothers, and Claudia and her family, she was subject to even more overly polite smiles and heads tilted away from her. No doubt sharing whispers about the charming little savage at the table with them.

  She especially missed Conn. He’d be quick to nod in a certain direction and cross his eyes, or make some other silly face that he would erase before anyone else could see him. If Conn were there, she would have an ally and someone to talk to no matter what.

  But he wasn’t, and she had to muddle through on her own and get through the evening with her sanity intact.

  Chapter Nine

  Somehow, Elena had survived dinner, followed by sherry in the drawing room with the ladies, but when she had returned to her room, she hadn’t been able to sleep.

  She had tossed until dawn, when she’d kicked off the covers in aggravation and dressed. Her mind had been a tangled heap of wool. She had thought a nice, quiet walk through the woods might help rid her of such troublesome thoughts.

  It hadn’t, and now she was lost.

  She could see the house, but from that distance Dunning Court appeared like a dark and foreboding dollhouse and Elena wrapped her arms about herself as an unexpected shiver rippled through her. “You’re being silly,” she chided, rubbing her upper arms with both hands to ward off the chill. “It’s just a house and Lady Rosamund is right. There are no such things as curses.

  “Besides, I’m not exactly lost. I can see the house. I’m not really certain how to get there.” She bit back a sigh and leaned against a rough-barked tree. Unfortunately, no pathways seemed to lead to the house. She was afraid that if she ventured into the woods, she’d find herself even more turned around than she already was. Damn it.

  Just beyond the woods’ edge stretched a lush green meadow with gently rolling knolls awash in a field of white clover. The wisest thing to do was probably to simply cut across that meadow. Beyond it, she surmised, were the Dunning gardens, and one of the garden paths just had to lead to the house, didn’t it?

  With a deep breath, she started out across the meadow, only realizing the folly of her decision about a third of the way in, when the water from the previous day’s rains rose over the tops of her staid walking boots and seeped in through the seams. The ground went from springy to mushy in two steps, and with the third, the mud sucked at her boot, refusing to allow her freedom until the blasted thing came off.

  She yanked her foot as hard as she could, then stared down in disbelief when she found herself looking at a stockinged foot instead of a booted one. “Oh, no…” she said, jamming her foot into the boot. The stiff leather cut into her ankle, just beneath the knobby bone. Tears welled in her eyes at the hot sting, and she blinked them away as she tried to free her boot again.

  The marshy ground refused to surrender it. Her foot slid out once more, a dot of blood widening where her ankle stung.

  “Damn it,” she muttered, wincing as she wobbled on one foot. Her weight shifted, and before she could right herself, her stockinged foot sank into the cold, wet sod.

  Mud spattered up her leg, along the under part of her skirts, as she bent to yank her boot out. The mud was merciless, however, and refused to yield its prey. “Damn it!” Elena shouted, tightening her grip on the boot. Her arms, her shoulders, her back ached from the force of her pull.

  With a sucking squelch, her boot popped free, but there was no time to savor her victory, for defeat slapped her upside the head as she stumbled backward. Her other boot sank into the muck. This time she hit the ground with the unceremonious splop of her backside meeting the marsh.

  “Hijo de puta!” she snapped, wincing as icy cold muck soaked into her skirts, through her petticoats and stays, straight into her bones. Now both ankles hurt, she was a mess, and she still had at least half a meadow to cross. Without boots, no less.

  She froze as shouts rang out in the distance, and she groaned as she recognized Lord Shelton’s and Lord Dunning’s voices. The men were up and about, obviously, and although she couldn’t see them, she assumed they were on horseback.

  “Backing down from the challenge, are you?” Shelton shouted, a hint of mockery in his tone. “I’ve never known you to do such a thing, Dunning.”

  “Hardly backing down. I’d rather not have my horse come up lame, if it’s all the same to you. The race is only a few days out and I intend to win.”

  As they spoke, their voices faded and Elena breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing she wanted was to come face-to-face with either man when she was spattered with foul-smelling mud from head to foot.

  With another muttered oath, she yanked both boots from the mud and stood. Her left ankle stung and ached with each step, and when she finally emerged from the meadow, she wanted to cry. She was no closer to the gardens than she had been when she was in the woods. They still seemed miles away. How unfair.

  “I should have chanced the woods themselves,” she muttered, limping toward the gardens, still so small in the distance. When a boot slipped from her grasp a third time, she snatched it up and flung it as hard as she could into the distance, where it vanished from sight among the reeds.

  Heat flooded her as the sound of hoof beats clumped into the soft ground, and she froze at the earl’s, “Miss Sebastiano? What the deuce—”

  She glared up at him as he drew alongside her, in no mood to be friendly, or even respectful. “Go away.”

  Ignoring her, he swung down from his mount and loosely looped the reins over his hand. He paused, looking down at her bare feet, and then his gaze alit on the lone boot in her hand. “Are you all right? What happened? Did someone attack you?”

  With his free hand, he caught her by the shoulder and spun her toward him. “Dear God, Miss Sebastiano—Elena—who did this to you?”

  She swiped at her cheek with one hand, only to find her fingers were even dirtier now. Wonderful. “No one. I did it to myself.”

  “Here.” He flicked out a handkerchief, moistened it with the tip of his tongue, then scrubbed at her cheek. “You look as if someone tried to rob you.”

  She fought off a flinch as he scrubbed some more. Mami had used the same technique when Elena was a little girl. She hated it as much now as she had then, and so jerked away. “I’m fine. I went for a walk and got myself lost. I didn’t realize how…soggy everything would be after that rain. On St. Philippe, things dry within hours of a rain.”

  “But you’re not on St. Phillippe, Miss Sebastiano,” he sa
id, bending slightly to meet her eyes.

  He spoke with an odd gentleness, which made her humiliation burn even hotter. “No. I’m not. And this is a mistake I won’t be making again.” She moved to step around him, now barely even noticing when she stepped into yet another puddle. What was one more at that point? Besides, her feet were almost numb with cold. “If you will excuse me.”

  But the earl didn’t release her. “Let me give you a ride,” he said, gesturing to his horse with the reins.

  He dabbed at her cheek again, this time with his gloved hand. Once more, she jerked away. “You’ll ruin your glove.”

  “I don’t care. It’s only a glove and I can certainly replace it.” His voice lowered and he shifted to stand before her, closer. “Is this something you do at home, when you aren’t sitting on your rock?”

  In spite of her situation, she managed a smile. “My rock. I do like the sound of that.

  “But no, in answer to your question, I don’t often do this. St. Phillippe is mostly jungle at its interior, and my father has always insisted we not wander about there. He still worries about unsavory sorts taking refuge in there.”

  She glanced around, gesturing to the woods. “This is all yours, though, isn’t it? You needn’t worry about unsavory sorts, need you?”

  “Oh, I don’t know I’d say that,” he told her slowly, also glancing about. “My gamekeeper has caught several poachers during his tenure, so I suppose you could say we have our fair share of unsavory sorts as well.” He turned back to her. “I would feel better if you didn’t decide to wander about the grounds without a chaperone. I would even be willing to guide you if there was something in particular you wished to see.”

  Somehow, she couldn’t quite imagine the earl putting aside whatever it was he did each day because she felt the need to escape the confines of Dunning Court. But since she couldn’t very well say that, she instead changed the subject.

  “Were you with the marquess?”

  “I was. Remember what I told you about Ascot?”

  “I do.”

  “He challenged me to a race.”

  Her smile faded. “A race?”

  “I won.”

  He said it with no little pride and she had to fight to keep from rolling her eyes. “Of course you did, my lord. But”—she looked up at him—“aren’t you afraid of your horse coming up lame?”

  “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t, but he needs to stretch his legs from time to time, and he favors that track.”

  “Be careful, won’t you? It seems so very dangerous to me.”

  “Why, Miss Sebastiano, you sound almost worried for me.” His eyes grew soft—more so than she’d ever seen. “You needn’t, you know. I’ve been riding since I could walk and I’ve always been fine.”

  As he spoke, his eyelids grew heavier, which only added to his handsomeness. In turn, her heart skipped a sudden beat as she realized he was going to kiss her.

  Delight.

  Horror.

  Part of her wanted to run, but the other part was wildly curious. She didn’t think his kiss would be like the ones men back home tried to steal from her. His lordship looked as if he’d kissed enough women to know exactly what he was doing.

  Horror.

  Delight.

  Again.

  Her heart fluttered as he bent toward her.

  “Your lordship?” Matthews’s voice rang out through the meadow, which made both her and Dunning jump apart.

  A hint of red streaked along Dunning’s cheekbones. “I beg your pardon.”

  “No. It—it’s fine.”

  “Your lordship?”

  She flinched as he bellowed, “Yes, Matthews?”

  “I’m afraid we have a bit of an emergency with the wine for dinner this evening.”

  “Of course we do,” Dunning muttered beneath his breath. “I’ll be there in a moment.” He turned to her. “Come, let me give you a ride to the stables.”

  Her initial reaction was to decline, but she thought better of it. “Thank you, my lord.”

  He swung up into his saddle, then held out a hand. “Up you get, Miss Sebastiano.”

  A tingle rippled along her arm as she let him help her up onto the horse, then a comfortable silence descended, with no mention being made of how he nearly kissed her. At the stables, once it was safe to do so, she jumped from Loki’s back and practically ran the rest of the way to her chambers, where she locked the door tight behind her and once more, slid down the length of the door to plop on the floor.

  Between the blood and the mud, her stockings were ruined, and she had no idea how she was going to explain her missing boot. But even more confusing were the feelings reeling about inside her.

  The Earl of Dunning wanted to kiss her? A smile tugged at her lips. It had been a long time since any man had tried to steal a kiss from her. And she’d been covered in mud!

  Her smile faded. He wanted a kiss. That was all. He’d already explained that. True, marriage was the end goal, but he’d already made up his mind and would most likely choose Lady Rosamund, as she certainly seemed to be the most suitable. But, then he shouldn’t want to kiss anyone else, should he? It seemed so wrong to her. Love match or no, a man should be faithful to his wife, if only because it seemed to her to be the right thing to do.

  Besides, the earl was no boy. The look he’d given her suggested that of a wolf eyeing up a rabbit, and the thought of being that rabbit was enough to make her belly jump again. Perhaps he would be satisfied with a kiss, but if he wasn’t, what would that mean? Would he be willing to stop?

  But wait? This wasn’t what she wanted.

  Was it?

  “Elena?” Conn called from the corridor. “Are you in there?”

  She lolled her head to the right. “I’m here, Conn. Is something the matter?”

  “Where were you?”

  “I went for a walk.” With a sigh and a wince, she rose to unlock the door and pulled it open. At Conn’s look of surprise, she held up a hand. “I had a bit of trouble in the meadow. It’s a swamp from all the rain.”

  “What the devil were you doing in the meadow? Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. Just a little messy, that’s all.”

  Conn folded his arms and stared down at her. “A little messy? You left a trail of dirt from the main floor to here. The housekeeper will have kittens when she sees it. What is going on?”

  “Nothing. I went for a walk and ended up a little lost. That’s all.”

  “Elena.”

  “What?” she snapped at his low tone, throwing her hands up in the air. “That’s what happened. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like a bath and change of clothes.” She crossed to the bellpull by the bed and tugged. “So, if you’ll excuse me.”

  Conn didn’t look at all as if he believed her. “I bumped into Dunning at the stables. He said he’d given you a ride back to the house because you decided to go for a walk this morning and became lost.”

  “I did not get lost.” She glared at him. “But I did get a bit turned around. And yes, he let me share his horse.”

  He arched one brow. “Share his horse?”

  “You know what I mean. And don’t look at me that way. He was nice enough to loan me his handkerchief to try to get some of this blasted mud off, for all the good it did. And here I am.” She shrugged, hoping her cheeks weren’t half as red as they felt. “Nothing happened, Conn. The earl was a perfect gentleman.”

  “Why don’t I think that’s entirely true?”

  “Because you think every man is like you.” Elena wrinkled her nose at him as she moved to the washbasin. Thankfully, there was still some water left in the ewer. It was cool, but it would at least take off some of the dirt on her face. She poured it into the delicate china basin. “It hardly matters. As you can see, I’m here in one piece. All I’ve lost is one boot.” She peered at him over her shoulder. “Has Galen straightened out his mess yet?”

  “Elena.”

  “What? I kno
w what you’re thinking, Connor Sebastiano, and you can stop it at once. He did nothing more than wipe my cheek with his handkerchief. His breeches remained on the entire time.”

  “Elena! What the devil’s gotten into you? I don’t believe you just said that.”

  “Then stop acting as if you caught us in a compromising position, Conn. Nothing happened. And I’m not looking for anything to happen, remember? I’m helping him, not me.” She turned to the basin, cupped some of the tepid water, and splashed it on her face. Swiping at her cheeks with a towel, she straightened to add, “He was a perfect gentleman. Stop being so protective, and stop looking as if you’re going to rip his head off the next time you see him. And you didn’t answer me about Galen.”

  “That’s because there’s nothing to answer.” A heavy sigh weighted his words. “He’s still talking to a closed door. And while I doubt there’s anyone on the other side within earshot, he’s probably thankful that at least she’s stopped opening the door to throw things at him.”

  “She was throwing things at him?”

  “Hit him with a book and a candlestick so far. I must admit, her aim’s impressive.”

  “Damn. Fine. Perhaps I can talk to him.”

  “I think we should stay out of it. It’s his mess.”

  “Conn, the wedding is three days away. Three days! We need to get them back together as soon as possible. Claudia refused to even speak with me last evening, but perhaps I might try again later.”

  “I don’t know, Lena. Her entire family’s angry at him.”

  “Can you fault them? I’d love to know what he was thinking.”

  “He wasn’t thinking, which is what got him into this mess in the first place. But he loves her. She loves him. And it will all work out.”

  “Three days, Conn. We have exactly three days to get this wedding on again.”

  “Fine.” He sighed. “I’ll see if I can help the boy dig his way out of his hole.”

  “Thank you.” She frowned at the towel, streaked brown from the mud. “And while you’re at it, please see if someone is on their way. I need to bathe something terrible.”