The Earl's American Heiress

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At least it would be for a little while longer. A cool breeze rippled along the stones and made the leaves in her private spot whisper. The hem of her skirt fluttered. She glanced up to see a dense bank of clouds move slowly across the face of the moon.

How quickly did storms advance here in Mayfair? At home one had hours of warning before rain began to fall, which it rarely did this time of year.

But yes, just now, the scent of the air changed. She felt its moist hand brush her skin. And there in the distance? She was fairly certain she saw a flash and, seconds later, she heard the faint rumble of thunder.

This was exciting, since she could not recall the last time she had heard thunder. Two years ago, or three?

In considering whether or not she could be happy in England, she had not anticipated the wetter climate. Rainy days were her favorite.

So, to the positive side of her mental list of reasons she should wed the earl, she added rain. She saw the word in her mind right there beneath afternoon tea and cakes, and strangers in fountains. Since this was merely a mental list, she allowed the handsome stranger to remain on it.

But his inclusion in the list created a problem on the “reasons to sail for home” side of the list. She had liked the fellow, for all the little she knew of him. He reminded her that liking one’s spouse was paramount. At this point she did not know that she could even tolerate the earl—a man who did not show the common courtesy of leaving the gaming room to meet the woman who had the funds to save him from financial ruin.

Even though she held no illusions that the earl was going into the marriage for any reason but monetary gain, she was disturbed by the contrast between the behaviors of the pair of men who were lately on her mind. One of them had gallantly offered to walk her home in the wee hours of the night, while the other had ignored her presence.

Marriage implied a particular kind of intimacy. She did not think she could allow free access of her body to a man she did not at least think highly of.

Recalling how appealing she had found Heath Ramsfield for those few moments she spent with him, she wondered if perhaps she ought to stand firm for a love match.

Wondered until she recalled how Grandfather’s arms had held her through that flood. Held on with a love so fierce she had not been swept away.

That memory, and everything else he had done for her, weighed heavily in her decision.

If only there was someone she could speak with—a trustworthy confidant. Once again, she sorely missed her cousin, even though if she saw her this moment she would chastise her.

Footsteps crunched on the path.

“Excuse me, my lady,” said a deep voice from the shadows. “I did not realize this space was occupied.”

Chapter Four (#u0102500e-25b5-598b-bc53-c6c5131a5b03)

It was her, the woman with the red hair Heath had caught mysterious glimpses of throughout the evening. He was not sure why it was that she had caught his interest more than any other beautiful lady in the room tonight.

His voice must have startled her because she gasped, touching her throat with lacy white gloves.

“I apologize for intruding on your solitude.”

“It’s quite all right. I was just about to go inside.” She stood up, and then all at once her green eyes—even in the dark he could tell that they fell somewhere between emerald and peridot—blinked wide.

“Mr. Ramsfield? Heath Ramsfield?”

If she was startled to see him, he was doubly surprised to come upon her in the duchess’s garden. How was it that this lovely commoner came to be dressed in satin, lace and exceptionally exquisite jewels?

“Miss Fitz—is that you?” Yes, he was nearly certain it was and yet... “What are you doing out here?”

“Seeking answers to a dilemma. And you—have you run afoul of a cat again and come here to escape it?”

He could hardly be offended, not when she looked up at him with good humor winking in her eyes.

“Also seeking answers to a dilemma.”

She sat back down, turning a fraction to the side to make way for her small, fashionable bustle. She patted the bench.

“I recognize that it isn’t proper to be alone together in the garden, but I do not happen to have a chaperone at the moment.”

“At the first sign of footsteps I promise to dive beneath that bush.” He indicated a large, dense rosebush behind the bench. Thorns be damned, he wanted to spend time with this lady who, he expected, was far different than the one he would be wedding in a very short time. “Will you not be missed?”

“No doubt I’m being sought as we speak—but I am in no hurry to be found.”

Did she not value her employment? Although she hardly appeared to be in service.

Still, sitting down beside Miss Fitz seemed the most natural thing in the world to do. Had he been in the same situation with anyone but this forthright American, he would have immediately fled. Being alone in the dark of night with one of the debutantes would have found him at the altar within a fortnight.

At the altar with expectations of love and romance. Much better he wed the heiress and be free of such entanglements.

“Nor am I.” He smiled at her. It might be the most genuine pleasure he’d taken in that gesture since he’d last seen her. “You look quite fetching, by the way.”

Fetching in a very expensive way. Odd, that.

“My grandfather has been very lavish in making me look like an exquisite doll.”

“I tip my hat to him. He has succeeded beyond measure.”

“Grandfather always succeeds when it comes to me. I do his will quite obediently on most occasions. It is my downfall, I’m afraid.”

“I find it hard to believe you are submissive.”

“Loyal, I think, rather than that.”

“And what loyal act are you hiding from out here?”

“Marriage.” The thought flashed through his mind that some fellow was a very lucky man. “He has arranged one for me and I am not at all sure the fellow and I will suit.”

He had more in common with Jane Fitz than she knew.

“Have you spoken to him about how you feel?”

“I’ve told him I would only go through with the marriage if I found the man was someone whom I could respect. My fear is that I will not even find him tolerable.”

“You should not marry a man you cannot tolerate. I support you in that.”

“Do you? I appreciate your saying so. I’ve been quite alone in my concern over it. I can scarce believe I’ve told you, a stranger, about it.”

“It’s because I am a stranger. I think it’s easier to speak one’s mind openly to someone one does not know. Although I do feel we are no longer quite strangers. But tell me, why do you believe this fellow will not suit?”

“We were supposed to meet for the first time tonight and yet he has not had the courtesy of emerging from the gaming room.” Wasn’t that one of life’s odd coincidences? He had yet to meet his bride as had been arranged, either. “I believe he might not be the most stable of men. I have no wish to act the fellow’s keeper.”

Heath had taken a brief walk through the game room tonight. Slademore had been in attendance, but surely he was not the man she meant. Which of them could she have been speaking of? None of them appeared to have anything in mind but cards, or, if he was a footman, serving the gentlemen.

Gentleman or servant, none of them seemed to be anticipating meeting a bride for the first time.

“Perhaps circumstances prevented him from meeting you.”

“I sincerely hope not.” Her brows arched. Her chin lifted while she looked steadily into his eyes.

“I’m sure it’s only that he had a duty—”

“A duty to his cards? Never mind. Time will tell if I consent to wed him or not.” She lifted her shoulders with a sigh, gave her head a slight shake. “And what drives you out into the night, Mr. Ramsfield?”

“Much the same thing as you. Apparently we are kindred spirits.” Somehow, speaking to Miss Fitz seemed comfortable. Even knowing he should not be out here alone with her, he wanted to talk all night long. “Shall I call for a chaperone?”

“I’m hardly a blushing child. Besides, we’ve been alone long enough already to be thoroughly compromised. Calling for a chaperone will only draw attention to the fact. No doubt we would be forced to marry and I surmise that you are promised to another?”

“Bound and fettered.” He should not have revealed that. It was a thought best kept to himself.

Overhead, he heard the soft pattering of raindrops. Dense leaves of the rosebush growing over the arbor kept the moisture from penetrating, at least for the moment.

“I must say—” she arched one pretty brow “—that attitude does not bode well for a blessed union.”

He nodded. “You understand that, I believe?”

“Sadly, I do. Still, I do not have to go through with it. Although it will be at the cost of crushing my grandfather’s heart. He’s had one granddaughter do that already. But you, are you so bound that you cannot walk away from it?”

A drop of water must have hit her nose because she lifted her hand and brushed it off. If only he had been the one to whisk it away. For some reason he desperately wanted to feel the warmth of her skin under his thumb.

“Yes, I am. There are many people who would be destitute if I walked away from my duty.”

“Birds of a feather are what we appear to be, Mr. Ramsfield. If only we were free to take wing and fly away.”

Rain began to leak down the leaves. A torch on the path glowed dimly on Miss Fitz’s face and revealed a smattering of raindrops across the bridge of her nose.

“I find that I would not mind flying away with you,” he admitted.

Nor would he mind kissing her. He ought to have summoned a chaperone. This was dangerous ground he was treading.

Hell, not treading so much as dashing headlong over. Helpless to do otherwise, he lifted his hand, smoothed away the raindrops from that fine sharp nose with his fingertips.

“I say we do.” She smiled and winked. “Let’s ruffle our feathers and take to the sky, just the two of us.”

“Yes, well.” He shook his head, trying to clear it of the delightful fog swirling in his brain. “It would be a great scandal if I kissed you.”

Had he murmured that aloud?

“Immense—but only if someone knew about it.”

She was bold and sassy.

She completely captivated him.

“Or if we were legally bound to others,” he foolishly pointed out. Had he lost his mind?

“I have yet to give my word on anything.”

“And I have yet to meet my ball and chain.” He cupped the back of her head, felt the slickness of the rain on the strands of her hair. Lifting her chin with his fingertips he bent toward her rain-dotted lips. “Fly away with me, Jane Fitz.”

“Clementine Jane Macooish!” At the sound of the deep voice, Heath’s head jerked up. “Have you lost your mind?”

He stared into the furious expression of an older man.

“Take your hands off my granddaughter, sir.”

What? Oh...he was still cupping the back of Jane’s head. As if under water, good sense stroked toward the surface of his brain. And what had the man called her—Macooish?

“On the contrary, Grandfather.” Jane, or Clementine, slowly stood up, her brows arched in a most becoming, if rebellious, way. “I’m quite certain I’ve just found it.”

“Have you found her?” asked a voice Heath recognized.

Now might be the time to leap for the rose bush.

“I tell you, I only stopped for a conversation with Lady Claremont and she disappeared from my—”

The duchess’s face popped into view. Her mouth sagged open.

“Lord Fencroft!” Feeling rather like a worm in the grass with everyone staring down at him, he stood.

Her Grace’s eyes blinked furiously while she sought words appropriate for this compromising situation—this horrid breach of hospitality.

“Fencroft?” Miss Macooish spun toward him.

“Macooish?” He swiveled his gaze toward her.

Miss Macooish’s mouth worked silently. Not for lack of words, he thought, but because of an abundance of them. He imagined she did not know which ones to fire at him first.

* * *

Clementine hardly knew what to say. Words fumbled on her tongue vying for utterance.

Grandfather, however, suffered no such confusion.

“Charlatan! Scoundrel! Seducer!” He stood nose to nose with the man, poking his chest with a stab of his finger upon each heated word. A roll of thunder might have been taken as agreement. “Reprobate!”