Page 43 of How the Earl Entices

No, he’d wanted her tobelievein him.

At that moment, caught up together in the coach, with the full ramifications of what he was doing staring him in the face, he’d needed to know that what he’d done mattered. That someone like Grace, a good and caring woman, could believe in the importance of his mission and support him in his actions.

Leaning his shoulder against the casement, he glanced at her as she lay in bed, drawn up beneath the covers as she slept, once more in that frumpy tent of a night rail. She might not believe in him, but at least she hadn’t given him up when she’d had the opportunity. He’d claim his victories wherever he could. Especially with Grace, because every minute with her was like being immersed in a game of chess in which she constantly challenged him to keep up.

Who the devilwasshe?

She said she’d been part of his Mayfair world, but how was that possible? How could he not remember someone like her? A woman with that much fearlessness moving among those spoiled society ladies who fainted at the first sign of distress. A woman who was filled from head to toe with determination, whose sharp mind could have run circles around most of the men in Parliament. A woman who had the spine to tie him up, then blackmail him into helping her.

He should have been furious at her for that. Should have left her behind in Sea Haven when he had the chance, tied up to her own bed in revenge. But she also intrigued him, flaming all kinds of wicked thoughts, until revenge was the last thing he wanted from tying her up.

She stirred as she awoke, taking a moment to clear the sleepy confusion from her mind as she sat up and glanced at the dark room around her. Then she looked down at the trundle bed that he’d claimed for the night instead of pushing his luck and trying for a repeat of last night’s sleeping arrangements. Better that he hadn’t, given the way she looked, all deliciously sleep-rumpled, with her hair lying in a riot of thick toffee-colored curls down her back and the loose neck of her gown sliding down to reveal a smooth, bare shoulder.

He’d lied to her last night when he’d denied attempting to seduce her. God knew he’d been doing just that. Given half a chance, he’d unrepentantly do it again.

“Ross?” A hint of panic rose in her voice at not finding him near.

“I’m here,” he called to her through the darkness.

With a soft sigh that she wasn’t alone, she brushed a hand through her hair to push the unruly curls away from her forehead. “What are you doing?”

“Watching.” He turned back toward the window, his gaze once more falling to the soldiers below who paced the corner of the yard to keep their blood circulating against the chill of the damp night.

Behind him, he heard the soft rustle of the covers as she slipped from bed. “The soldiers?”

He nodded, his eyes following them in the halo of light from the stable lamp. “They’re waiting for the night coach.” He felt her come up behind him, his body instantly alert with the nearness of her. When she remained behind him, lingering fearfully in the shadows, he assured her, “They don’t suspect us.”

“How can you be certain?”

“Because they would have arrested us by now.”

That blunt truth didn’t put her at ease. Instead, she came forward just long enough to peer down at the soldiers, to see for herself that they weren’t a threat, then stepped aside.

He expected her to flee back to bed, especially since she’d spoken less than half a dozen words to him since they settled into the room. Instead, she remained just behind him at his shoulder. Close enough that he could catch the faint scent of jasmine that surrounded her like a cloud and sense the warm softness of her body. Close but not touching, and driving him mad with frustration.

“I forgot that you used to be a soldier,” she said quietly.

“In a different lifetime.” More truth lingered behind that than he wanted to admit.

“This must be so very difficult for you.”

Not difficult.Hell. He was in hell. He rasped out the quiet confession, “My world has ended.”

He heard the quiet catch of her breath at that soft revelation and felt her hesitate, so attuned had he become to her. He thought that comment would drive her back to bed for certain, to maintain the distance between them that had formed that afternoon in the carriage. Instead, she slowly placed her hand on his bare shoulder.

Her soft touch was absolution. The sensation spooled through him like a ribbon, tying the two of them together in the darkness and giving him solace.

“Everything I believed in has turned out to be a lie. The men I admired, the ones whose careers I wanted to emulate—” He shook his head, still watching the yard below, even though the soldiers had boarded the night coach and were now waiting to leave. “Wentworth welcomed me with open arms the day I arrived at the embassy in Paris, did you know that? To bring me into the fold and guide me on the right diplomatic path so that I could serve England to the best of my abilities.” Bitterness burned on his tongue. “His patriotism was only a charade.”

She said nothing, but in that silence he felt her sympathy. Her fingers tightened against his shoulder, then slid down his arm in a reassuring caress that soothed the simmering anger he’d carried with him since the moment he’d discovered Wentworth’s treachery.

“I’ve wanted nothing more in my life than to serve England. That’s why I became a soldier, why I took a diplomatic position when the wars ended.” He wanted to make her understand— No, he wanted to share this part of his life with her because he knew shewouldunderstand. The only woman who could, now knowing what depths that service had taken him to. “I wanted to serve my country beyond the wars and into the peace.” Then he shared with her the secret that he’d kept from everyone, including his brother. “To know that I’ve earned the right to serve in Parliament, rather than being there only due to fortune of birth.”

“You have.” She squeezed his arm. “In so many ways.”

If only he could believe that himself. With a sigh, he lifted her hand to his lips, to place a kiss on her palm, then lowered it to his chest. “My country thinks I’m a traitor.”

Instead of pulling away, she laced her fingers through his. “Only until you show them those pages.”