Free The Contraband Courtship (The Arlingbys Book 2) by Alicia Quigley

seriously—as difficult as it may be for a wastrel such as myself.”
    Helena glanced at him sharply, but his expression was civil. “Did Rowena tell you I called you that?”
    “Don’t be concerned, she’s called me far worse,” said Malcolm cheerfully. “It seems the two of you would agree mightily on my character—or lack thereof.”
    “It is not that I think you lack character,” said Helena hesitantly. “It is just that I—” she broke off.
    “That you think I should take my responsibilities more seriously?” asked Malcolm. “I won’t say you are wrong. But I have very little experience being responsible for anything but myself. You, on the other hand, seem to be responsible for far too much. Can your brother not help you at all?”
    “Arthur helps a great deal. You must not think he is heedless of his duties. But he is still at Oxford a good part of the year, and I want him to enjoy his time at home. There is no reason the estate should be a burden on him while I am here to help.”
    “That is a pity. A woman as beautiful as you should not be immured here in the countryside, tending to your family’s lands. Your brother is very lucky you never married,” said Malcolm.
    “Nor am I likely to,” she answered stiffly.
    Malcolm realized from the sharp glint Helena’s eye that he was once again treading in dangerous territory.
    “Miss Keighley, I wish to know all about the smugglers,” he said. “But is it necessary to discuss this here? Although your drawing room is lovely, the weather outside is even more beautiful, and, while Arthur showed me your tenants’ farms, he neglected the grounds of Keighley Manor. Would you be good to take a turn in them with me?”
    “Certainly,” said Helena, relieved that he had turned the subject. Talking to the earl outside would be less intimidating than in the drawing room, where his presence seemed to dominate the space.
    Helena rang the bell, and a footman appeared. “Tell Sherburne to fetch my hat,” she said. She stood, and Malcolm followed her out into the hall, where he looked around appreciatively.
    “This is a beautiful house,” he observed, admiring the oak floors and carved wainscoting.
    “We are very proud of it. The oldest parts date from the early sixteenth century, and the newest from the early seventeenth century. Once there was a moat, but, sadly, it was filled in. It has always belonged to the Keighley family. Though, of course it is not so fine as Wroxton Hall,” she added hastily.
    Malcolm grinned down at her. “You have no need to appease me. Wroxton is newer, and perhaps more stately, Keighley Manor has more charm.”
    “Oh no, Wroxton Hall is gracious and finely proportioned. This home is a mere muddle compared to it; there have been many additions over the centuries, and the Long Gallery appears to have been an afterthought and ruins the lines of the house.”
    “Let us agree that we both live in very fine houses,” said Malcolm solemnly. “I would hate to come to blows with you over my admiration of your home.”
    Helena smiled up at him tentatively. “It would be ridiculous to quarrel over such a subject.”
    “It would indeed.”
    Sherburne appeared, all smiles, and dropped his lordship a curtsey. She bustled over to Helena, and insisted on fitting a white chip hat, tied around the crown with a green satin riband, over her hair. Then, murmuring about the breeze outside, she produced a shawl, draping it elegantly across Helena’s elbows.
    “Thank you, Sherburne,” said Helena. “Please do not fuss, I am merely showing his lordship the gardens.”
    “Perhaps it does not matter to you, but may I tell you that you look lovely?” asked Malcolm, offering her his arm.
    She glanced up to see if he was mocking her, but his expression seemed utterly sincere. With a murmured word of thanks, she took his arm, and allowed him to escort her out the door. Sherburne looked after them hopefully.
    Helena stepped out into the sunlight