open the door and hauled herself up into it. She plopped down onto the cushioned seat opposite the earl.
He eased his newspaper down, a dark brow lifting. She supposed some women might find the look a little titillating. How he fixed her with his grey-blue eyes made her chest a little tight. But, no, that was more likely from nearly being trampled to death. She pressed a hand to her chest and offered a quick smile.
“My lord,” she said breathlessly.
He folded the paper and set it on the seat then tapped the roof. “Continue on.”
She put her palm to the plush seat as the vehicle rocked into motion once more. “I rather thought you might sling me out.”
“Tempting.” He cast his gaze over her. “You rather look like you have already had enough splashes in puddles though.”
Her cheeks burned. She shouldn’t care what he thought of her appearance. After all, how could she compete with silks and feathers and diamonds? However, a tiny, teeny weeny part of her wished that maybe she could experience such things. Only once. She wasn’t greedy after all. How would it feel to be beautiful and glamorous and admired by someone like the earl, she wondered.
With a shake of her head, she focused her attention on the earl. “I’ve been waiting for some time for you.”
“I knew I should have continued on horseback,” he muttered.
“Pardon?”
“Nothing.” He laced his gloved hands over a knee. “What do you want, Miss Haversham? I’m a—”
“Busy man.” She held up a hand. “I know.”
“Well get to it.”
“An audience with you, that’s all I ask.”
His mouth tightened. “You have one now.”
“A proper one. One where I am not soaked to the bone and where I can ask you my questions.”
His gaze flickered over her and the permanent furrow between his brows deepened. He plucked a blanket up from beside him and before she had quite fathomed what had occurred, he draped the beautifully soft wool about her shoulders.
He moved back swiftly, giving her the briefest moment to inhale the subtle scent of him. He smelled of sandalwood and a little mint. For some odd reason, that scent made her stomach do a little twirl.
Or perhaps it had been his proximity.
She shoved away the thought. It couldn’t have been any of that. More likely, the taste of a story so close by had her all on edge.
“I...” She pressed her lips together. “Um, that is...”
“I don’t know anything about those women. I saw Lady Steele just before her disappearance and she seemed entirely normal with no hint as to why she might vanish. And I cannot tell you anything more I’m afraid.” He leaned back. “Does that satisfy?”
“Satisfy?” she repeated, her voice slightly strangled.
Something lingered behind his eyes that told her he knew precisely how to satisfy. Which made it all the more puzzling why she could not find a history of lovers trailing behind him. She pushed the blanket off her shoulders as warmth flowed suddenly through her. He watched the movement with a bemused look. Damn the man, he had to know what he was doing to her.
And damn her for falling for it. She was not some innocent debutante with flowers in her hair. She was eight and twenty for goodness sakes. A spinster of little means. She had no time for the charms of a privileged man.
“Lord Huntingdon, I would request once more for an audience with you so I can ask you my questions properly.” And she would not have to be in such close confines with the almost handsome man.
The earl rubbed a hand across his jaw, drawing her attention to the stubble that lingered there, implying it either grew swiftly or he had left in a rush this morning without shaving.
“Miss Haversham?”
Freya lifted her gaze to his. “Yes?”
“I asked if Tuesday would suffice. At two o’clock?”
“Oh. Yes. Of course.” She fought a silly grin from spreading across her face. “That would be wonderful.” She paused. “I mean, that would be acceptable.”
“Excellent.” He tapped on the roof and opened the door when the carriage drew to a halt. “Good day, Miss Haversham.” He jerked his head toward the open door.
She came to her feet swiftly, dragging the blanket with her. “Oh.” She tugged it off her shoulder and tried to hand it back to him, but he shook his head.
“Keep it.”
“But—”
“Keep it, Miss Haversham.”
Scowling, she gripped the blanket in one hand, ducked out of the carriage and jumped down into a puddle that soaked instantly through