Free My Brown-Eyed Earl by Anna Bennett Page B

wasn’t jesting and that he’d relish the opportunity to prove it, so she made a quick decision. “Your arm will suffice.”
    He laughed again, a low, rich sound that made her pulse thrum. “I thought you’d say that.” But there was concern in his eyes as he tentatively released her and offered his arm once more. “Are you prone to fainting?”
    â€œNo. There was only the one time after I … well, after I received very bad news.” She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm, and he flexed his muscles, pulling her close, demanding that she lean on him for support.
    â€œI’m sorry about the bad news,” he said sincerely.
    â€œThank you, but it was years ago.” When she’d learned that her parents’ carriage had careened off an icy bridge and they’d drowned in the river. All because she’d behaved like a spoiled chit. She could have asked for time to consider the engagement or simply been more gracious in her refusal … but, no. She’d embarrassed her parents so greatly, that they had no choice but to set out for the earl’s house in treacherous weather in order to apologize for her rudeness. And they never came back.
    â€œTell me if you need to stop and rest.”
    â€œThe journey to the dining room is not so far,” she said, “and the dizziness has already subsided.” But it had been replaced with a sort of headiness—one she very reluctantly identified as attraction. Blast it all.
    He smelled faintly of brandy, soap, and ink, an oddly stirring combination. But his appeal this evening lay more in the undivided attention he paid her. Though not always polite, he was solicitous. She had to remind herself that he wanted something from her—namely, for her to stay on as his governess. And like most rakes, he could be very charming when it served his purposes.
    â€œHere we are.” He ushered her through the doorway and into the elegant pale-green room. Tasteful landscapes adorned the walls; classical urns occupied alcoves on either side of the fireplace. At the center of it all, a gold candelabrum holding a dozen flickering candles illuminated the long oval table.
    That was elaborately set for two.
    The place settings were on either end of the table, which could easily seat fourteen. Yards of pristine white linen separated mirror images of bone china, silver, and crystal.
    Dear Lord, this was no place for her. Last night she’d taken a tray to her room. And she’d eaten breakfast that morning downstairs with the rest of the staff. That was where she belonged.
    As though he sensed her urge to flee the formality of the place, Lord Castleton tightened his grip on her arm. He frowned at the immaculately set table and gestured to Gibson, who stood against the far wall, at the ready. “Move Miss Lacey’s plate to my right,” said the earl, “so we don’t have to shout at each other throughout our meal.”
    â€œOf course, my lord.” Gibson swiftly saw to the task, removed the silver covers from both plates, and poured claret in their glasses. Meg made a mental note not to drink it.
    â€œThank you, Gibson. That will be all. Miss Lacey and I will manage on our own.”
    â€œVery well. Ring if you need anything, my lord.”
    As the butler turned to leave, the earl said, “I bumped into a table in my study and knocked a glass onto the floor.”
    â€œI’ll have someone take care of it immediately,” Gibson said, smoothly pulling the doors closed as he left.
    And Meg found herself alone with the earl once more.
    As he pulled out her chair, she wondered if he normally ate alone. A handsome, wealthy gentleman must have plenty of dinner invitations, but none for tonight, apparently. It was one thing to take a meal alone in one’s room, but to sit in a huge dining room by one’s self seemed … sad.
    â€œIt’s a simple menu tonight.” He