The Problem with Seduction - By Emma Locke Page 0,88
beyond a horseshoe-shaped ring of surging cliffs likely hadn’t changed in four hundred years.
A commotion from the top of the carriage lasted just long enough for her and Con to exchange worried glances. Then the horses drew up suddenly and Elizabeth reached her arm across Mrs. Dalton’s chest, as if she could stop the force of a grown woman and four-month-old being catapulted across the carriage.
Luckily, they weren’t tossed from their seats. Con threw the door open and jumped out. Moments later he returned, bounding into the carriage with the easiness of a man born a dashing rake.
Elizabeth didn’t pause too long to admire his agility. “What’s the matter?” she asked before he had time to settle.
“James, the runner I sent ahead, waved down your coachman. Lord Trestin has extended an invitation for us to stay at Worston rather than at the cottage.”
Elizabeth did her best to hide her disappointment. “That’s very kind of him.”
Con nodded and tapped his knuckles on the coach ceiling. The horses pulled forward and once again, Elizabeth whipped her arm across Mrs. Dalton and Oliver. Con shot her an odd look but then, he couldn’t truly understand the innate need she felt to protect her child, even when her attempt would be futile if put to an actual test. “I take it you’d rather stay at this cottage you spoke of this morning,” he guessed.
Her gaze darted to her lap. Seeing the cottage would have been lovely, though she didn’t think her impulse to stay there was purely for sentimental reasons. It would have been so much more private than the Hound and Hen or Worston. “I don’t want to be a bother, and of course I would be if he were made to open the cottage just for us. Worston is a fearsome place. Have you been?”
Con cast her a commiserating look. “I grew up next door, so yes, I do know what a monstrosity it is. I wondered, though, if it is the thought of staying on with Trestin himself that has brought on your obvious regret. I don’t know him as well as you might think, seeing as how we grew up neighbors, but I can say that he isn’t the easiest man to talk to. I never felt slighted in the least to know that he preferred Montborne to me, though Trestin and I are of an age. Antony and Bart have always had their secret language, and Darius and I were conveniently paired. Montborne was welcome to him.”
She frowned. “I like Lord Trestin very much. He can seem cold, but he is kind to me.” It hadn’t always been that way, but she didn’t see the benefit in confirming his poor opinion of Trestin.
“I suppose he must have a quixotic bone in his body. I’m still flabbergasted that he married—” Con winced. “Er, your friend.”
She smiled though his honesty scared her. He meant that Celeste hadn’t been worthy of Lord Trestin. It was only the truth. Still, thinking of him marrying Celeste in spite of her past gave Elizabeth a kernel of hope. Maybe she exaggerated the impossibility of Con’s ever marrying her.
“They suit each other very well,” she said, careful not to force too much hope into her words. “He is a steady, dependable sort who is faithful to his family and friends. But,” she allowed, “he doesn’t have many of those.”
Con’s nostrils flared. Why? Because he wasn’t known for steadfastness?
Or was he jealous?
He forced a smile to his lips. “Then you shall have to reintroduce me.” It sounded, just the teeniest bit, like a warning.
Her belly fluttered.
The carriage began the steep ascent to Worston. Oliver slept against Mrs. Dalton’s breast. Elizabeth smoothed his hair. She’d cherish these last few minutes before pleasantries were required of her. That would have been a benefit of staying at the cottage: it offered a retreat to collect her thoughts after a day of being subjected to Celeste’s eagle eye.
She caught Con’s gaze. Another benefit? Privacy.
The carriage rocked forward and stopped. Elizabeth lightly touched the back of Oliver’s fist as she waited for the stairs to be set down. Did Worston have a nursery? It must. All great houses must be prepared for the eventual arrival of the heir.
The carriage door opened, letting in a blast of sea air, and she allowed Con to help her down. Lord Trestin was already outside and standing before the formidable white granite steps that spilled from the front door to the impeccably manicured lawn. He waited