Free An Earl Like No Other by Wilma Counts Page A

it. I do.” Mortimer seemed now to become more affable. “So—you can see it would be in all our interests if you two were to come to an understanding.”
    â€œI cannot like the crassness of this discussion,” Jeremy said.
    A flush of anger suffused the older man’s face. “You, my lord, cannot afford such refined sensibilities,” he sneered.
    â€œYou’re probably right.” Jeremy tried not to allow his despair and disgust to show in his expression or tone, but inwardly he faced the bleak truth. He could walk away from Kenrick—the Hall, the estate, and all the other properties and concerns—not to mention the people dependent on the earldom. He had already proved, in the New World, he could make it on his own. And, in truth, what difference would it make? If he were to give in to this bully’s demands, would the results not be the same as if he had walked away? Somehow Kenrick pride would not allow him to surrender helplessly—not now. Not ever. He might still lose, but—by God!—he would not allow himself to be manipulated like a puppet. He still had time. There was still a chance to save Kenrick.
    Mortimer must have sensed some of this inner turmoil. “Well, you think on it some, my lord. I am sure you will come to the right decision. Meanwhile, I grant you my permission to pay court to my daughter.”
    The knight’s smile was a cold, mechanical grimace.

CHAPTER 6
    K ate knew that, in an owner’s absence, it often fell to the housekeeper to show visitors around a grand house. Nevertheless, she wondered briefly at this task she had been given. First of all, the owner was in no way absent. And, secondly, the parts of the house that could be shown were no longer so very grand.
    â€œHis lordship has closed off much of the house,” she explained apologetically.
    â€œNever mind. We shall see what we may,” the younger woman said airily.
    They had already seen the entranceway with its elegantly carved staircase winding upward, the stairwell towering fully three stories. She showed them the library, still well-stocked with books. Kate knew it to be a varied collection—everything from ancient classics to Shakespeare and contemporary novels such as Miss Austen’s works—along with collections of poetry, sermons, and treatises on modern farming and animal husbandry.
    â€œThis room has a lived-in look about it,” Miss Mortimer commented.
    Thinking the young woman sounded slightly disapproving, Kate said, “I believe it is his lordship’s favorite.”
    â€œHe is a reader, then?” Miss Mortimer asked as she idly ran a hand over the spines of several volumes, but taking no note of the titles.
    â€œI—uh—suppose so,” Kate said. She knew he often read late into the night.
    She had first discovered this habit of her employer on her second night in the Hall. It had been nearly midnight; unable to sleep, she thought a book would help by either making her sleepy or at least providing a diversion. She threw on her rather nondescript robe and her bedroom slippers. Her hair hung loose in two long braids. Grabbing a candle in a holder and lighting it, she had been surprised on stepping into the hallway of the family area of the house that the footman charged with extinguishing lights at night had failed to do so, for light shone under the library door.
    She discovered why as she stepped into the library. Lord Kenrick was ensconced in a comfortable leather chair, reading. On a table at his elbow a gaslight shone brightly; a half-empty glass of dark amber liquid sat near the lamp. She uttered a small gasp of surprise on seeing him. He looked up and started to rise on seeing her.
    â€œNo, please, do not get up,” she said, pleased, nevertheless, that with this man simple courtesies were extended to servants as well as elegant ladies. “I—I did not think to find anyone here so late. I thought