Page 22 of Discovering Her Earl

To his surprise she laughed and handed over the volume with only the slightest hesitation.

He was holding a gothic novel by Ann Radcliffe. Another surprise.

“We should start at the beginning, so you don’t miss anything,” she suggested.

“Very well.”

He smiled as he opened it to the first page of the book and shook his head as another thread of her enigmatic behavior was revealed.

He definitely did not understand her, but he was so very interested in learning more.

Chapter Eight

As they bounced down the road, Lainey’s stomach finally settled as the earl’s low, even voice relaxed her as he read. His voice rumbled over the words and he accented different words than she would have. The more she listened to him speak the more she enjoyed his brogue.

Many people of the ton thought it a savage dialect, but she found it fascinating. Mesmerizing.

She’d had no idea such a service as reading a book would seem so intimate until the carriage was filled with his melodic rumble and she closed her eyes to soak it in.

Then he removed a flask from his coat and took a sip to wet his throat before he offered it to her.

She’d tasted a wide selection of spirits on her travels. But none tasted sweeter than the whisky she drank from the flask where his lips had touched before hers. It was warm from being tucked in close to his body.

She thought of what that might feel like. Not being a flask, but touching his chest. She imagined it would be hard with muscle, for the earl was lean even with the bulk of his shirt, waistcoat, and overcoat.

She’d heard he fancied visiting Gentleman Jack’s and caught a vision of him in the ring, sweaty with exertion as he swung his fists at his opponent. Did he smile even in the heat of a match? His smile seemed to be affixed to his face.

She thought of the smiles he’d given her a few times yesterday that brought out that devilish dimple and lit up his blue eyes. That was his real smile.

She took another fortifying sip and handed his flask back. He reached for it without interrupting his reading and tucked it away in that place she wanted to place her hand.

“I must say.” Though he’d been speaking all this time, the change in his voice to conversation startled her from her thoughts. “I wouldn’t have put you for someone who read gothic novels,” he said as he positioned his bag to one side of the squab and leaned back upon it to stretch out across his seat. He was much too long, so he bent his knees so he would fit. Tucking the novel against his thighs.

He looked rather comfortable there, so she mirrored his pose, propping herself in the opposite corner so they could look at one another as they conversed. Or so she could continue to watch him as he read to her.

Rather than bend her knees, she settled one foot over the other ankle.

“Are you not enjoying The Mysteries of Udolpho?” she asked when she was comfortable.

“I’m seeing a striking resemblance of Signor Montoni to my sire.”

He’d mentioned his father a few times and had yet to say a kind word about the man. In truth, the late earl did sound like a monster in Lord Melville’s life. She thought herself to be similar to Emily in the novel because she’d been orphaned, but in truth, after that trauma there had really been nothing horrible to note.

Except what had happened at her come out.

Her anger was stirred but didn’t gain the usual heat. How could she be angry at the man who’d offered to read such a scandalous novel to her because she couldn’t read it herself?

With a sigh of resignation, she cast off her plans to fill his fine boots with horse dung.

And even worse, he seemed to be enjoying himself. Perhaps anything would be better than having to converse with an irritable shrew such as herself.

“I’m sorry your father was so horrid. Do you wish to talk about it?” she offered.

“God, no. That blighter doesn’t deserve to be discussed. He should be forgotten. Allowed to drift into nothingness. That is a true punishment is it not? To not be remembered by anyone?”

“I suppose it is. While I can’t speak on what you have gone through, I do know that I remember my parents often with fondness and I feel that is an honor to them. By default, I have to think you have something with your plan to let him drift off into nothingness.

He nodded, seemingly happy with her assessment.