Chapter Nine
After her bath, Elaina had a tray brought up so she could dine in her room. Mrs. Leighton’s letter held an apology for their delay, but it was clear from the way she spoke of her new grandson she was completely smitten and unable to tear herself away so soon after meeting the baby.
Elaina couldn’t begrudge the woman more time with her new grandchild. But it meant she was here alone with Lord Melville. In his home. Alone.
As he’d said, they’d been alone the entire journey, but it was different. Sharing a home together was somehow more intimate and she didn’t know if she was equipped to keep him at a distance under such circumstances.
She realized as she’d sat in the tub of warm water and thought of how the earl was just down the hall, she was in danger of forgetting what he’d done to make her dislike him.
Disliking him had become impossible when he’d been so kind to her. She’d hoped when they arrived at his home, she could put some space between them until she was able to assemble her irritation with the man once again.
And he was a man now, even more handsome than he’d been at two and twenty. More confident. More enticing.
She’d spent so much time with him during their journey she’d gotten to know him. To like him.
But she couldn’t forgive him. Not that he would ever ask for forgiveness. Not that he would feel remorse for what he’d done.
The familiar rush of anger came unbidden as it did most times she thought of him. She welcomed the anger and the power it had to steady her. She’d allowed him to get too close. She’d been weakened by his charm.
Seeing him with his elderly butler, the way he clearly cared about the man. A servant. Someone many lords wouldn’t even address let alone call a friend.
It confused her.
Perhaps the earl had changed over the years. She surely had.
She remembered her silly hopes and dreams when she’d been a blushing debutante. And how Melville—then known as Lord Huntly because his father still lived—had dashed them all away, leaving the angry woman she was today.
It didn’t matter if he had changed and was now an honorable man who cared for his elderly servants and read to her for hours on end in the carriage.
He needed to pay for what he’d done.
She would make sure he did.
*
It was stilldark when the pounding on his door startled him awake. Julian groaned and stumbled to the door to answer it, forgetting he was naked until Miss Bantham gasped and averted her eyes.
“Pardon,” he mumbled as he donned his banyan and rubbed his eyes. “What is amiss?”
“Nothing is amiss, it is time to go,” she answered sharply, still looking away from him.
“Go? Where are we going exactly? It is the dead of night.”
“It is five in the morning.”
As he’d just said, the dead of night. At least for one who only went to bed at two.
After eating dinner alone last night, he’d made his way to the study and partook of too much whisky. He’d stared into the fire and tried to fathom what he could have done to earn Miss Bantham’s ire. And more importantly how he might charm her into friendship once more.
It seemed each time he made some bit of headway with the woman, she pushed him away and turned cold. He hated how long he’d spent trying to puzzle the woman out to no avail.
He hadn’t thought her the flighty sort, but she was all over the place with regard to how she interacted with him.
One moment she was angry, another she was laughing at his antics. One moment she was ignoring him, the next she was sharing intimate details of her life. One moment they were so close their knees bumped and then she didn’t come to dinner, leaving him alone in his huge house until he finally went to bed much too late.
She was an enigma. An infuriating one. He shouldn’t care that she didn’t seem to like him at all. What did her opinion count anyway? Other than allowing him to go to Egypt, and he didn’t have to be her friend to prove his competence.
He just needed to focus on impressing her with his skill. However, focus was not something easy to come by so early in the morning.
“It is still dark,” he said when the issue of the time didn’t result in her leaving so he could go back to sleep.
“By the time you have dressed, eaten, and gathered your supplies, it will be first light and time to leave for the dig.”
He took a deep breath and nodded. The fog of exhaustion had lifted somewhat, and he was better able to process her demands.
He couldn’t very well refuse to go with her the first day of his test. It would surely seal her decision to reject his request to join the larger expedition.
“I will be down in a quarter hour,” he promised, hoping to appease her.
“Ten minutes,” she countered and walked away.
“Very well.” He closed the door while grumbling how whatever was to be found by them in the dirt had already been there waiting to be unearthed for many years so another hour wouldn’t have hurt.
A bleary-eyed Bentley scurried in to assist.
“You can go back to bed, Ben. I am wearing simple work clothes today and don’t need assistance to dress.” In truth he only really needed Ben to get into his tighter-fitting evening coats. “Best one of us get a full night’s rest.”
“I will prepare your shave.”
Julian waved him off. “Don’t bother. It is just myself and the harpy digging in the dirt today.”
“Harpy? I found Miss Bantham to be a lovely young lady.”
“She is lovely, and then when you least suspect it, she transforms before your eyes into a bitter shrew of a woman that drags you from your sleep to go out in the dark to dig in the earth. She’s a witch.”
“You’ve always given to fits of dramatics when awakened too early,” Ben muttered.
“It’s true. You should be careful, old chap,” Julian said without the least bit of dramatics.
“I see.” Ben looked skeptical. “Consider me warned, my lord.” The valet busied himself in helping Julian get ready in the ten minutes he’d been allotted.
Still a bit disoriented, he arrived in the breakfast room as the woman who looked much too lovely for this hour had finished and set her napkin beside her plate. More proof she was a witch. When she stood to leave, all he could do was stare.
His mind was still a bit groggy from sleep, but he would have had difficulty with the scene before him even at midday.
“You… You’re wearing breeches.” He pointed at them as if the woman wasn’t aware she stood in the formal breakfast room wearing men’s clothing. Her shirt was similar to his own. Including the way it gaped open at the neck, revealing her delicate collarbone. Her golden red hair was tied back in a thick braid that fell over her shoulder.
“Please don’t tell me you are scandalized by my attire. I wouldn’t think you of all people would be a stickler for propriety.”
“I’m not a stickler, I’m just… surprised.” He was mostly surprised by how seeing her dressed in men’s clothing made his body react. He never would have thought such a thing would be so alluring. “And what do you mean by me of all people? Because I’m a barbaric Scot?”
She frowned at him.
“No. Because you are flush with scandal.”
He nodded, though that was no better a reason. He couldn’t think. Looking at her muddled his already befuddled brain.
The breeches clung snugly to her womanly curves in a way breeches had no business doing. The shirt was thin enough that he could just see a hint of whatever she wore under it. And what looked like lace edging. Feminine colliding with masculine in the most sensual way.
By the time his gaze landed on her feet, he was already envisioning her in his bed wearing nothing but those knee-high boots.
“You’re so… That is…” What was he to say? He couldn’t think of words. Any words. At least not English ones. He settled on “Buaireadh aingidh.” For she was a wicked temptress.
She rolled her eyes and muttered something about why anyone found him charming.
“We leave in ten minutes,” she announced and left the room.
He caught himself from arguing or speaking at all. He was certain whatever came out of his mouth at that minute wouldn’t be acceptable. Besides, he only had mere minutes to put something in his mouth. It was best to focus on that.
He had no doubt she would leave without him if given the opportunity.
He slurped down a cup of coffee and fisted three pieces of toast and a rasher of bacon to carry with him as he hurried toward the mews in the back of the house.
She was driving a cart, serviced by two gray mules, out of the building as he arrived. He tossed his knapsack filled with tools in the back beside hers and climbed up in the seat next to her.
Without the fullness of her skirts, he managed to sit close enough that he could feel the heat of her body as her leg bumped against his. He moved away quickly and cleared his throat as she snapped the reins to get the mules moving.
Part of him wanted to be a gentleman and ask if she wanted him to drive, but the other part warned that such a gesture might get him tossed off the conveyance and left behind.
Besides, he needed both hands to finish eating.
It was a fortunate thing that Julian knew the way to his mouth well as the rutted lane they took to the castle ruins made the act of eating rather difficult.
He looked up and gasped, which didn’t work well when his mouth was full. He began to choke and cough, but Miss Bantham drove on as if she hadn’t noticed. Or perhaps hadn’t cared. Still without addressing him she bent then passed him a small jug he hoped held water.
He removed the cork and took a swig. After a few more barking coughs he was restored. Or was certain he wouldn’t die, at least.
He pointed at what had caused his surprise in the first place. The sun was shooting pink and gold rays across the sky.
“I’ve forgotten how beautiful the sunrise was from here,” he croaked.
“Do you not see the sunrise often, my lord?”
“Nay. ’Tis difficult to see in town. Though I’m often awake at that hour.”
“I assume you mean on your return home rather than rising at that hour?” She lifted her brows in a saucy smirk and he felt the tug in his breeches again.
He shrugged rather than answer. Though Hale had settled down, Kit, Graham, and Julian still went out most nights. They mostly kept to drinking at their clubs rather than gambling or carousing. But still he had arrived home many times after dawn had broken. And soon that would all be at an end because he would need to marry.
Rather than ruin the breathtaking view with thoughts of his father’s plans, he smiled at the woman next to him.
She darted a glance in his direction before staring straight ahead once more.
“Every time I think we have turned a corner to being friends, you put me back in my place as the lowest creature you’ve ever encountered. It’s quite maddening.”
“I find you quite maddening as well, Lord Melville.”
He smiled, as she glanced at him again.
“Why are you smiling? It wasn’t a compliment,” she said, clearly irritated.
He affected her. So far, it wasn’t in a good way, but he would try to win her over by being his pleasant self.
He was often praised for his optimistic attitude. And why wouldn’t he be happy? His father, the man who constantly judged him during his youth was long gone. And he was free to enjoy life. Or had been anyway.
“We are going to be friends, Miss Bantham. You wait and see.”
“I fear neither of us have the kind of time needed to wait that long.” Despite her words, she was smiling. If he’d thought the sunrise impressive, it was dim compared to seeing Miss Bantham impressed with her clever quip.
“We shall see. I don’t give up so easily.” Not when it was something he wanted as much as he wanted to win her over. What he would do if—no when—he did so, he wasn’t quite sure.