Haunted by the Earl's Touch - By Ann Lethbridge Page 0,54

sure to relay your sentiments to my brother when next I write.’

‘You are too kind, ma’am.’

Mrs Hampton made a great show of tidying up her embroidery, tucking it into the drawer in the table beside her. ‘I believe it is time to retire, Miss Wilding.’ She rose to her feet and the earl straightened.

Mary held out the book to her. ‘Thank you for sharing this fine work with us.’

‘Keep it. I am sure you will find it most edifying.’ She darted a glance at the earl. ‘Shall I write for another copy for you, your lordship? It has a great deal to offer a man in your position.’

Was that an insult? Mary felt a flash of heat on his behalf.

The earl gazed at the widow without expression. ‘No need, ma’am. I am sure Miss Wilding will be more than happy to lend me her copy. Indeed, I am sure I shall enjoy the pleasure of listening to her read on future evenings.’

Mary’s jaw dropped.

‘Very well, then,’ Mrs Hampton said. ‘I will say this. I do not as a general rule approve of blue-stockings, or young ladies earning a living, but the pupils at your school were fortunate to have you.’ She gave Mary a tight smile.

Mary darted a glance at the earl, who raised a brow. She decided to accept the compliment. ‘Thank you.’

Mrs Hampton headed for the door. ‘Are you coming, Miss Wilding?’

Mary started to rise.

‘Stay,’ the earl commanded. An expression of surprise flickered across his face, as if he had not planned his request.

Startled, she stared at him blankly.

‘It is early,’ he added by way of an afterthought. ‘Perhaps you would indulge me in a game of chess, Miss Wilding?’

It sounded like an excuse to get her alone. She swallowed, wondering what she should say.

‘I am retiring.’ Mrs Hampton gave the earl a pointed glance. ‘While Miss Wilding is your ward, my lord, and while in most instances no one should think anything untoward of it, I do think she should follow my example.’

The earl’s mouth tightened at what was clearly a suggestion he did not know how to behave like a gentleman—a cruel blow to any man’s honour. And a petty triumph for the widow if Mary followed her lead.

He awaited her decision impassively. Clearly his pride would not let him argue his case. Not that he had much of a case after his attempted seductions. She really should go.

‘I will stay for a while,’ she said impulsively and flushed. Oh why would she care if she hurt his feelings? If, indeed, he had any feelings.

‘Then I bid you both goodnight.’ The widow swept out of the room.

Wondering if she had quite lost her senses, Mary watched her go.

‘You do play chess, do you not?’ the earl asked.

‘Indifferently, I am afraid,’ she said as calmly as her racing heart would allow. She and Sally had played occasionally, but Mary had the feeling that Sally made up the rules as she went along. Fortunately, it was not something they had been required to teach their pupils. ‘I really should retire and leave you to your port.’

‘Afraid, Miss Wilding?’

Of course she was afraid. She’d be out of her mind not to be. But it would be a mistake to let him see it. ‘I just do not think you will find my chess game much of a challenge.’

He tilted his head. ‘Then let us take up where we left off. Will you read for me?’

She glanced down at the book of sermons. ‘I’d really rather not.’

The earl pulled a small book from the inside breast pocket of his coat. ‘This may be more to your taste.’ He held out a small volume bound in worn brown leather and lettered in gold.

She read the cover. ‘Spenser’s Faerie Queene. Not an easy read.’

‘But not beyond you, I think.’

There was something in his tone that made her try to read his expression, but as usual his thoughts were shuttered, as he took up his previous stance at the hearth. Once more she was reminded of a dark fallen angel. Or a god cast out from the heavens, much as it seemed he had been cast out by his family. Not unlike her. Something in her chest squeezed. A pang of empathy.

She knew what it felt like to be abandoned.

She lowered her gaze and opened the cover to read: To Laura, for ever in my heart, LBB. The B could stand for Bane. If so, it was odd to realise she did not