Free The Scarred Earl by Elizabeth Beacon Page A

a bully resorts to such ridiculous theories when logic fails to get him what he wants from life,’ she informed him in what she hoped was a superior tone as her heart thudded in her breast. She wished she was half as confident as she sounded that she must take a part in the search for her brothers.
    ‘Then let’s away, before I give in to my baser instincts and drag you upstairs and tie you to my bed to stop you plunging headfirst into whatever danger is on offer.’
    ‘Let’s, I’ve no time to stand here listening to the raving of a lunatic.’
    ‘If I spend much longer with you, no doubt I will be mad as a March hare, madam, since you would try the patience of a saint,’ he muttered darkly and, keeping her hand firmly in his, urged her out of the room and towards the stables before either of them could think better of the expedition.
    Somewhere between Jack’s private domain and the vast ducal stableyard, the Earl of Calvercombe’s grip became merely the comfort of hand on hand and, despite her determination to hate him as fiercely as she had it in her to loathe a man who didn’t actively wish her harm, she found the contact reassuring. He was uniquely irritating, but he was also a capable and battle-hardened ex-soldier. The closeness of him felt nigh irresistible to a wilder self usually buried under her serene exterior as well, and she did her best to ignore the silly creature.
    It was folly to turn to the Earl of Calvercombe for comfort, but she needed a man of action. She had even thought about sending Joe Brandt after Jack and Jessica for perhaps half a minute. If she thought it woulddo any good, she wouldn’t hesitate, but all it would achieve would be to give their unseen enemy the satisfaction of knowing they had been dragged back from their wedding journey for no useful purpose. While there was a stubborn and arrogant overlord on hand, why bother landing herself with another imperious aristocrat like Jack to stamp about the place being masterly?
    No, Alex Forthin was the ideal man to outfox their mysterious enemy, and she prayed nobody would send for her cousin behind her back and ruin his honeymoon. As they waited for the horses to be saddled, she made herself stay by the mounting block while the Earl went to help, telling herself it would make him even more impossible if she shared that conclusion with him.
    She sighed for some sensible female company and wished Jess home after all. At least she would share her driven anxiety for Marcus and the frustration of being a ‘mere’ woman who was supposed to sit and await the warriors’ return like a sweet little heroine in a story. At last the horses were ready and she tried not to feel like a fragile and fairy-like débutante as his lordship arrogantly tossed her up into the saddlebefore she could manage for herself. If she didn’t assert herself, she would end up on the sidelines, forlornly awaiting news while he took over.

Chapter Six
    S ilence reigned while they rode across the park absorbed in their own thoughts. Persephone racked her brains for a clue as to where her second brother could have been spirited off to. Fifty years ago the roads had been so bad no stranger would have got far along the road without half the neighbourhood knowing where they were. Now the post roads were fast and it had been a dry summer, so Marcus could be halfway to Ireland or London by now. She tried to put herself in the shoes of his kidnapper, but found it impossible, and frowned gloomily at the broad shoulders of Lord Calvercombe instead.
    She wondered if Annabelle de Morbarayehad been glad her youthful guardian was a few hundred miles away and preoccupied once she was old enough to want a life of her own? Persephone contemplated how it must feel to be so alone in the world and decided with a shudder that, no, Annabelle would not have been grateful for his absence. From the sound of it, Alex Forthin’s half-brother and father had been selfish men who cared for