Lord Deverill's Heir, Catherine Coulter [the best motivational books .TXT] 📗

that the earl was here and thought him wise enough to assist out of this quagmire.

The comte sat back, furious, wondering what had happened. He’d had the stupid fat fellow on the floor, the boot of his heel on his neck, and yet the earl had rushed in to save him. He had always heard that military men hated the ignorance of their countrymen. Certainly the French military men were contemptuous of anyone who ever dared question them or pretended they knew anything that was going on.

And the new earl was a proud bastard, every inch of him. Of course Gervaise knew, deep in his belly, he knew—it was the cursed loathsome English—they protected each other. Not to mention that the earl hated him. He had realized that even though he didn’t know the reason for it.

Well, he would take care of that soon enough and he would very much enjoy himself doing it. He looked over at Elsbeth and his eyes narrowed. She was smiling toward Lord Graybourn. How could she do this to him?

Damn her.

Damn all of them. He couldn’t wait to wash the dirt of England off his boots. Filthy cold heathen country.

Lady Ann added, “Let us also hope that Wellington will not have to turn his eyes elsewhere. Do not forget that with Napoleon’s marriage to Marie Louise only four months ago, Austria now owes no loyalty to England. The French emperor is very carefully scattering England’s friends to the four winds. Nothing good will come of this, particularly if Marie Louise becomes quickly with child.”

The earl was impressed. Finally, Crupper directed two footmen in with the tea and cakes. He watched Lady Ann pour the tea. It seemed that everyone watched her, took their tea, and sipped in pleasure. He himself loved the lemon seed cakes. He nodded, accepting a cup of tea from her, as she said, “I feel so very sorry for the young empress. The poor child had no say in anything, I am certain.”

“French emperor indeed,” said Lady Talgarth as she ate her second piece of lemon seed cake. She was eyeing the earl, for he had just taken a second slice also. There was only one left. She cleared her throat, hoping to distract him as her fingers inched toward that last slice, “I have heard it said that the Corsican has deplorable manners. What is a man if he has no manners? What do you think, Lord Graybourn?” Lord Graybourn nearly choked on his tea. “Manners do tend to civilize,” he finally said, and took the last slice of lemon seed cake.

Arabella said with a twinkle in her eyes, “My dear ma’am, judging from the continuous string of mistresses, right under the nose of Josephine, it would seem that not everything about the man is deplorable.” The comte laughed immoderately.

The earl was on the point of picking the comte up by his high shirt points and hurling him through the French windows when Arabella jumped to her feet and said, “Oh dear, Justin, I fear I have spilled tea on my gown. Would you please see that it will not stain?” It was well done of her. He watched her come toward him, holding the material of her sleeve, her eyes on his cravat. He felt a powerful kick in the gut. God, but she was beautiful. She was also a termagant, loyal, brave, and he would forgive her. He would tell her tonight and then he would make love to her and he would do it right. He would make her forget the comte. And she would tell him the truth, finally.

She reached him, looked up into his face, and said softly, “Do you believe it will stain?”

He did not know or care if anyone was looking at them. He leaned down, looked at the very small wet stain, then kissed the tip of her nose, then her chin, and finally her mouth, very lightly.

“Goodness,” Lady Talgarth said. “Surely, my lord, this display is inappropriate for my innocent daughter’s eyes, not to mention dear Elsbeth’s.”

Suzanne laughed. “No, Mama. Finally Bella will be good for something. I will watch her with her husband and learn important things. Husband and wife sorts of things.”

“Suzanne, I will have to speak to your father about this. I am certain that he will agree with me. All you have to do is observe us, my dear, to learn all the important things.”

Suzanne felt close to hysterical laughter.

Luckily, Lord Graybourn was saying to Elsbeth, “Have you ever visited London before?”

And the conversation chaos was avoided until Suzanne said, “Come, Bella, you cannot remain standing there with the earl’s arms around you. My mother will expire from the shock. As for your mother, just look at her pink cheeks.” And Elsbeth was all pink in the cheeks as well, but that was because of Lord Graybourn. Life, she thought suddenly, was indeed whimsical. She realized she was enjoying herself immensely.

The earl looked up, saw that everyone’s eyes were fastened on them, and sighed. He lightly touched his fingertips to her mouth. “Later then.” He added at the wariness he saw clearly on her face, “Trust me. We will work this out, you will see. Go now before I embarrass us further. Your gown won’t be stained.”

“I wasn’t embarrassed.”

He merely nodded. He didn’t know what was happening to him. It didn’t hurt but it was strange, this awkward mixture of tenderness, fury, and lust. So much, yet not enough.

“At last, you are with us both mind and body again,” Suzanne said.

Elsbeth said, “How I grieve for the poor Austrian princess. She was torn from her family and her country all as a political bribe to that horrid man.”

“Do not forget, my dear, that Napoleon ardently desires an heir,” Lord Graybourn said, much struck by this shy young lady’s sensibilities.

“We poor women,” Suzanne said, then ruined it with a giggle. “Bartered and traded about so that we can be the carriers of your precious