Sweet Rogue of Mine (The Survivors #9) - Shana Galen Page 0,103

and the poor state of the house. It was more the arrival of Mr. Payne than anything the vicar had done that helped Nash, but being that she was in a precarious position herself at the moment, it seemed wise to hold her tongue.

A footman met them at the door. Pru didn’t recognize him and realized he must be part of the earl’s household. He showed them into the drawing room, which was a chamber Pru had only entered a time or two, and though she could see some of the furnishings needed reupholstering and the draperies were a bit faded, the room was clean and airy. The earl’s servants must have stayed up all night readying it for the earl, who was seated near a window, but stood as they entered.

“Mr. Higginbotham,” the earl said. His gaze moved to Pru and lingered for just a moment. “And Miss Howard. How good to see you again.” She had worn her new dress today, though that meant she would have to wear it two days in a row as she wanted to wear her best dress to the festival tomorrow. Pru held her breath that the earl would not mention the state of undress he had found her in yesterday.

She glanced about the room, but it seemed the earl was alone. Did that mean he’d sent Nash away? Where was Mr. Payne? If only she could catch his eye, she might know something.

“My lord,” she said with a tight smile. “I hope you passed a restful evening.”

“Very much so. I have forgotten how quiet the country is. Very conducive to rest. Please, both of you, take a seat.”

They sat and Mr. Higginbotham began to rhapsodize on the virtues of the country. Pru looked about, still hoping for some sign of Nash. The quarter hour dragged into a half hour and finally the earl suggested they walk to the back of the estate where the tent that would house the baked goods to be judged this year had finally been erected. Pru practically jumped out of her chair and then had to force herself to walk slowly and demurely behind the two men.

Finally, they emerged into the crisp, sunny afternoon, and Pru shaded her eyes to catch a glimpse of not only the tent for the baked goods but also a small stage and several booths in the final stages of construction.

“Quite the undertaking,” Mr. Higginbotham said.

“Yes,” the earl agreed. “I’m given to understand your Miss Howard played a pivotal role in managing all of this.”

Pru nodded at the compliment, but her heart was beating too fast for her to form a polite response. She’d spotted Nash. He was turned away from her, looking toward the informal gardens. From the way he stood, she could tell he was uneasy. She wanted to go to him, comfort him, ask him if the sounds of the laborers were troubling him, maybe walk with him in the informal gardens. Perhaps steal a kiss...

“Miss Howard, would you walk with me?” the earl asked her. Pru looked at him, startled at hearing her name.

“Of course. I wanted to show Mr. Higginbotham the area where I thought the children’s games could take place.”

“Perhaps you can show him later. I would speak with you alone.”

Pru looked at the vicar and he cleared his throat. “Excuse me. I will say good day to Mr. Pope.”

Pru watched him walk toward Nash and wished she could take his place.

The earl offered his arm, and Pru took it. Now was the time he would chastise her. She supposed she should be grateful he hadn’t done it in front of the vicar.

“Which way to the games area?” the earl asked.

“That way,” she said. They walked in silence for a few moments and when they were away from the main house and within sight of the lawns, Pru took a breath.

“I thought we could section off different areas for foot races and...” She was so nervous she couldn’t even think of any of the other games. This was ridiculous. She released the earl’s arm and turned to face him. “I’m not sorry,” she said. “I know you probably think I’m some sort of lightskirt and feel obligated to tell the vicar the situation in which we met yesterday.”

The earl raised his brows, his blue eyes grave.

“But I cannot apologize for it or regret it. I cannot bring myself to regret a single moment I have spent with your son. And if that means my reputation