CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Bianca stood in the middle of the study and battled the flood of tears.
Dear God, what did he want from her?
Had she not dared her father’s wrath, her reputation, and her very future to come here and prove her love to him?
Had she not offered her heart to him on a silver platter despite her own considerable pride?
Did he have to be so bloody well impossible?
For long moments she struggled to control her raw emotions. She wanted nothing more than to flee back to London and salvage what was left of her pride.
Or perhaps to search out Edward and thump his thick head.
In the end she did neither.
As her initial surge of embarrassment began to fade, her common sense slowly returned.
She had caught Edward off guard. And he was not a gentleman who handled surprises well.
He liked to ponder every situation with great care. And heaven knew he would not make a decision without considering it from every angle possible.
Impulsive he was not.
If she returned to London without at least giving him the opportunity to soften his feelings toward her, she might very well live with regrets the rest of her life.
Gathering up her bonnet and gloves, she forced her heavy feet to carry her back down to the lower floor. Once in the foyer, however, she was forced to pause in annoyance.
Damn and blast.
She was a young lady accustomed to having a small battalion of servants to see to her every need. When she traveled, her path was smoothed by expensive carriages and nights spent with acquaintances who made every effort to ensure her comfort.
Now, with the post chaise she had hired to bring her to Kent gone and her luggage piled upon the front step, she was stuck in the ignoble position of seeking out the housekeeper to assist her in traveling to the nearest village.
Once there she would hire rooms at the local inn. Assuming that they would be willing to allow a young lady without family or servant to remain beneath their roof.
Her features tightened as she turned on her heel and headed toward the back of the house. She reached the tidy kitchens without stumbling over a servant, and, stepping upon the flagstones that had been ruthlessly scrubbed, she took a moment to appreciate the scent of roasting beef and freshly baked bread. Oh . . . ambrosia.
Her mouth began to water. It had been hours since her light luncheon at the Posting Inn, and she abruptly realized just how hungry she was.
An apple tart would surely hold her over until she could find rooms for the night.
Following her nose, she had taken several steps toward a table laden with various treats when a slender, gray-haired woman bustled in from a side pantry.
They both halted in surprise, the older woman hastily wiping her flour-dusted hands on her apron before giving an awkward bob.
“Oh, forgive me, miss, you gave me a right start. I’m not accustomed to having visitors in my kitchen.”
Sighing at the loss of the apple tart, Bianca forced her most charming smile to her lips. Soon enough she intended to be mistress here. It was important that she win the respect and confidence of the staff.
“I am searching for the housekeeper.”
A portion of the cook’s unease faded. No doubt she had heard the rumors a young lady had come to visit her employer and was relieved that Bianca was not there to make demands for some lavish meal to be prepared in her honor.
“Mrs. Green? You just missed her.”
“Has she gone to the village?”
“No, miss. Left to help her granddaughter git wed over in Oakview.”
Bianca felt her smile falter. “Oh.”
“Was you needing to speak with her?”
Damn and blast. The day seemed to be going from bad to worse.
“I did hope to catch her before she left,” she muttered.
“Aye, well, she was in a right state over leaving the master in the lurch, but he insisted,” the cook babbled, seemingly unaware of Bianca’s dismay. “Never one to think of himself.”
Bianca was not at all surprised by the woman’s obvious loyalty. Edward had always spoken of his staff more as family than servants.
“No, Lord Harrington is a very kind gentleman.”
Moving toward the wooden table, the cook began to efficiently chop a pile of carrots.
“Too kind for his own good most times. What he needs is a wife to look after him. There are several lovely maidens in the neighborhood. We all hope he will choose one before the summer is done.”
Bianca suddenly stiffened. The mere thought of Edward married to another was enough to make her foam at the mouth.
Edward belonged to her. No one else.
“He will not be wedding any local maiden.” Wincing as the cook abruptly glanced up at her harsh tone, she firmly forced the smile back to her lips. It was not this woman’s fault that Edward was making her batty. “How long will . . . Mrs. Green be gone?”
“At least a fortnight.”
Bianca bit her lip, considering whether to simply head to the stables and demand that a carriage be prepared. Surely she would not be forced to haul her bags to the nearest inn?
“I see.”
The cook heaved a long-suffering sigh. “I hate to admit it, but she shall be sorely missed with the master home. Maggie is a fine girl, but she has her head in the clouds. Mr. Sinclair . . . begging pardon, Lord Harrington, has only to glance in her direction and she is dropping a plate or tripping over her feet.”
Bianca possessed full sympathy for the poor maid. Edward had that affect on most women.
“He is rather a handsome gentleman.”
A measure of pride settled upon the thin countenance. “The most handsome about.”
“Yes.”
Eyeing her with open curiosity, the cook tilted her head to one side. “Is there something I can be doing for you?”
Bianca glanced about the small kitchen. She should be on her way to the stables. Soon enough it would be dark, and she disliked the thought of entering the inn when the taproom would be filled with curious tenants and drunken travelers.
Far better to be safely tucked in a private chamber before the locals began to descend.
Somehow, however, she could not make her feet budge. Whether it was because of her reluctance to leave Edward or because of the cook’s insinuation that a devious horde of local females was lurking about in the hopes of becoming Countess of Harrington was impossible to say.
What if she left and Edward commanded his servants to deny her entrance? She could be only a handful of miles away and never set eyes upon him.
Obviously the only means to ensure that Edward could not thrust her from his life was to remain firmly entrenched beneath his roof.
He could hardly avoid her then.
And she knew precisely how to accomplish her goal.
Squaring her shoulders, Bianca called upon her years of rigid training. If nothing else, a duke’s daughter learned at an early age how to command others.
“Actually, there is.” She deliberately glanced about the kitchen with an air of authority. “It is obvious that you are in need of assistance. I shall take over the duties of housekeeper until Mrs. Green can return.”
The cook gave a startled cough, her widened gaze skimming over Bianca’s gown that had no doubt cost more than the servant earned in a year.
“You, miss?”
“Well, it would be more a matter of supervising the household,” she conceded.
“But—”
“Do not fret, I shall see to everything. But first I must have my bags brought upstairs.” She knew only boldness would win the day. If the cook had time to consider the strange turn of events, she might very well demand Edward’s approval. “Could you send someone to fetch them from the front yard?”
The woman frowned. “You will be staying here?”
Bianca attempted to look surprised. “But of course.”
“And Lord Harrington . . .”
“You many leave Lord Harrington to me. Now, if you will send a footman to fetch my bags, I will choose which bedchamber I prefer.”
On the point of turning away, Bianca was halted as the woman scurried forward, her expression troubled.
“Perhaps I should speak with the master first.”
Bianca lifted her brows, her heart racing. She was taking an incredible risk. Who knew how Edward would react to her brazen daring? Still, she could not leave. Not while there was the smallest hope she could earn back his love.
“Well, if you feel you must do so, but we both know just how proud men can be. He will never admit to needing the help of a woman even if it means being utterly miserable for the next fortnight.”
The cook paused. Bianca had struck her at her most vulnerable spot. She would do anything to ensure that her master was happy.
“You are friends with his lordship?”
Bianca allowed a secretive smile to curl her lips. The sort of smile that revealed just how intimately acquainted she was with Edward.
“The closest of friends.”
A hint of redness touched the thin countenance. “Oh.”
It was less than an hour later that Edward returned to the study to find Bianca.
He had not intended to be gone such a length of time. But after a brisk walk through the garden he was at last forced to take a quick dip in the freezing cold lake to gain control of his wayward passions.
Not that he was truly rid of them, he had conceded. At least not where Bianca was concerned. He would desire her until he drew his last breath.
But at least he might be able to have a reasonable conversation without constantly imagining her naked on his bed with him atop her.
Pulling his clothes back on, he had smoothed back his damp hair and hurried back to the house. As he entered the study, however, he halted in painful shock.
Bianca had disappeared.
Pure panic raced through his heart as he charged down the stairs and glanced at the front lawn. There was nothing to be seen. No carriage, no bags, no beautiful woman attired in crimson.
Where the devil had the woman gone?
Had she thought his abrupt departure was a rejection?
Could she believe that he had wanted her to leave before they could even discuss their troubles?
No. It was impossible.
But even as he assured himself that Bianca would never be so foolish, he was turning toward a side door that would lead to the stables.
By God, he would chase her down if necessary.
She was not leaving Kent until he discovered precisely what was in her heart.
Not even if he had to chain her to his bed.
That dangerous heat threatened to return at the delightful image of Bianca sprawled upon his bed, her white limbs spread on the sheets and her raven curls spilling over the pillows. . ..
No. First things first.
He had to capture his elusive fiancée before he could begin making his fantasies come true.
Nearly at the door, he was startled by the sound of rapid footsteps following in his wake. His heart gave a sudden leap as he turned, fully expecting to see the delectable woman who had become a vital part of his life.
He was doomed to disappointment as he recognized the thin form of his cook. Biting back his frustration, he waited for the servant to join him.
“Sir, if I may have a moment,” she said in flustered tones.
He held up his hand to halt the familiar complaints of the butcher’s outlandish prices, the gardener’s lack of skill with growing root vegetables, and the need to replace the ancient stove.
“Mrs. Chester. Have you seen Lady Bianca?”
She blinked at his abrupt tone, a red flush staining her cheeks. “Your . . . lady friend?”
Edward gave a lift of his brows at her strange manner. “Yes.”
“Aye.” The servant wrung her hands together. “She is in the blue room, I believe, sir. Maggie is unpacking her bags.”
Sharp, biting relief flared through him.
She had not disappeared.
She was here.
Tidily within his grasp.
“The blue room?”
The painful color deepened. “I did think it odd she would be staying here. I mean, a lady like that, and you a bachelor. But she did insist that she would be taking over Mrs. Green’s position and that you wouldn’t be minding. I hope I did not do wrong, sir.”
His housekeeper? The daughter of a duke?
A slow smile of anticipation curled his lips.
Deep in his heart he had known all along that Bianca would be his wife. No matter how wounded his pride might be. Or how difficult the task of overcoming her infatuation for Lord Aldron. Had his father not taught him that anything of value was worth fighting for? The moment he had seen Bianca standing in his home, he had known she was worth that fight.
No man could ever love her as he did, of that he was convinced.
And certainly no man would ever pledge to keep her as happy.
Still, a small part of plain Edward Sinclair remained within him.
Although he could offer Bianca a dozen estates and townhouses to suit her mood, this tiny farm would always hold a dear place in his heart. This was who he was.
Simple, uncomplicated, and tied closely to the earth.
In fairness to Bianca it would be perhaps best for her to see him as he truly was. Not the Earl of Harrington. Not a sophisticated gentleman of society. But Edward, gentleman farmer.
A few days together would surely allow her to determine if he were indeed a man she could love.
And, of course, it would no doubt be quite amusing to watch her play the role of housekeeper.
“Sir?” Mrs. Chester prompted, a concerned frown marring her brow. “Did I do wrong?”
Collecting his scattered thoughts, he reached out to pat the woman’s bony shoulder. “Not at all. Thank you, Mrs. Chester.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “Aye, sir.”
Indifferent to the knowledge that he was revealing just how anxious he was to be with his wife-to-be, Edward brushed past his servant and hurried up the carpeted stairs. The staff was bound to be abuzz with curiosity at having Bianca beneath his roof, but soon enough they would learn the truth.
And he did not doubt that they would soon come to love her as he did.
Bypassing his own chambers, Edward moved to those that had once belonged to his mother. Somehow it seemed fitting that Bianca would have chosen them.
Stepping over the threshold, he paused as he regarded Bianca standing beside the window that led to a small balcony. The delicate blue and ivory of the room suited her to perfection, and his breath lodged in his throat.
He wanted her so desperately.
But only if she could be happy as his wife.
Perhaps sensing his presence, Bianca slowly turned and regarded him with a wary gaze.
“Edward. You startled me.”
A smile touched his lips as he strolled toward the center of the room. “Imagine my own surprise. I did not realize I was in such desperate need of a housekeeper.”
A delicate color touched her cheeks even as her chin tilted to that familiar stubborn angle.
“It is obvious you shall be in need of my services,” she informed him in defiant tones. “A gentleman never fully realizes the effort that it takes to run an efficient household.”
His smile widened. “And you do?”
“Of course. I have been trained all my life to be the mistress of a household.”
“This is hardly a ducal palace,” he pointed out with a wave about the room. No doubt her own bedchamber was as large as his entire home. “Your talents are bound to be wasted.”
“I think I should be the judge of that.”
He took another step closer, sharply aware of the large bed just a handful of steps away.
It was a fortunate thing the lake was just a short distance down the path, he ruefully acknowledged. He had a feeling that he was going to be using it with great frequency over the next few days.
“Actually, as the owner of this estate, I believe I should be the judge of that,” he corrected gently.
She stiffened, almost as if expecting a blow. “Do you intend to have me thrown out of your house?”
His smile widened. Not even a French battalion would be capable of forcing him to allow her to leave this estate.
“After you traveled such a great distance to visit me? I am not quite so lacking in manners.”
She searched his expression as she attempted to assure herself he was not playing some cruel jest.
“Then I shall be allowed to remain?” she at last demanded.
He hid his flare of amusement at her arrogant tones. She sounded far more commanding than pleading.
He caught and held the dark gaze. “Is that what you desire?”
She stepped forward. Close enough to surround him in her honeysuckle scent.
“All I desire is to be with you so that I can prove my love.”
He was melting. She had not so much as touched him, and his entire body was aflame.
“How?” he rasped, his hands lifting to tenderly brush back the curls that lay against her cheeks. “By polishing silver and counting linen?”
Her own breathing became uneven as she stepped even closer. “By whatever means necessary.”
“Whatever means?”
“Yes.”
His hands slid downward, stroking the bare skin of her neck before slipping down her shoulders. He sucked in a deep breath. The feel of her warm and so utterly feminine beneath his fingers was sheer bliss.
“That is rather dangerously vague, muirnin.” He gently tugged until she was pressed fully to his aching body. “What if the means I chose include carrying you to that bed?”
She did not hesitate as her arms lifted to wrap about his neck. “I would suggest that you close the door. The servants would be very shocked to discover their master in bed with the housekeeper.”
His knees threatened to buckle as his arms wrapped about her slender waist. It had only been a week, but it felt like an eternity since he had held her near.
“Dear God . . . I believe you truly have bewitched me,” he muttered as he lowered his head to stroke his lips over her satin-soft cheeks.
Her taste filled his senses, and with a low moan he turned his head to claim her lips in a branding kiss. God, not a moment had passed that he had not hungered for her. Her touch, her smile, her mere presence.
She shivered as her lips readily parted, and Edward stroked his tongue into the damp heat of her mouth. Heavens, yes. Desire flared through his body with clawing insistence. He knew precisely how it felt to hold her naked in his arms. To slowly thrust himself into the tightness of her body.
It was paradise.
His hands tightened on her hips, pressing her against the hardness of his ready erection. With a restless moan, he nipped at her full bottom lip and scattered hungry kisses over her upturned countenance.
He wanted to devour her. To lay her on the bed and claim her as his own in the most primitive manner possible.
“Edward,” she husked, tilting back her head as he trailed his lips down the vulnerable curve of her neck.
Just for a moment all shreds of sanity threatened to be overwhelmed by the wild blaze of passion that raced through his blood.
What did it matter why Bianca was here?
She was in his arms and perfectly willing. What more did he need?
Then, the more practical part of his nature, a part that had always been something of a bother, reared its ugly head, and his lips stilled upon her skin.
Hell’s teeth.
She had been in his home little more than an hour and already he was ready to toss all to the wind for the pleasure of making love to this woman.
Stifling a moan, he reluctantly pulled back to regard her with brooding regret.
“This was not what I intended.”
Her lashes slowly lifted to reveal eyes darkened with desire. “Why?”
Against his will, his gaze dropped to the fullness of her lips, reddened by his kisses.
It did nothing to ease the tension clutching at his body.
“We still have much to settle between us.”
His words were perfectly reasonable, but with a sudden movement Bianca was thrusting herself away from his body, her expression one of annoyance.
“You doubt me? Even after I have come all this distance to be with you?”
He gave a slow shake of his head. “I am not entirely certain you know your own heart, Bianca.”
Her eyes briefly closed, as if she were battling the urge to throttle him.
“You are truly the most stubborn of men.”
“You are not the first to make such an observation. I prefer to think of myself as cautious.”
Her frown revealed precisely what she thought of his cautious nature.
“You are fortunate there is no well nearby,” she muttered.
Edward blinked before a wry smile touched his lips. “Is that a threat, muirnin?”
“Yes.”
“Bianca . . .” His hand reached out to touch her, only to halt at the sound of Maggie bellowing from the bottom of the stairs.
“Sir, Mr. Black has arrived with the drapes you ordered from his shop.”
Edward grimaced, knowing Bianca must be wondering if his household was one of savages.
He was quite certain that the Duke of Lockharte would insist upon the finest staff in all of England.
“I fear I must go. Maggie will continue to screech like a fishwife until I make an appearance.”
Surprisingly, Bianca reached out to grasp his arm before he could make his retreat, her eyes narrowed.
“Actually, I believe this is my duty. If you will excuse me?”
She moved to sweep past him with a proud set of her shoulders. A smile curved his lips.
She looked every inch the daughter of a duke about to march into battle.
“A moment, Bianca,” he murmured.
Turning, she gave a lift of her brow. “Yes?”
Before she could guess his intention, he was stealing a swift, delicious kiss.
“Take care with Mr. Black,” he whispered against her lips. “He will attempt to rob me blind if you are not firm with him.”
With a flustered motion, she stepped back and pressed her hands to her stomach.
“I am perfectly capable of dealing with merchants, my lord,” she informed him, although her tones were not nearly so haughty as she no doubt intended.
“Good.” He brushed a finger down the length of her arrogant nose. “I should hate to have my accounts thrown into disarray your first day as my housekeeper.” With a bow, he moved to the door and stepped into the hall. He paused to glance over his shoulder with a wicked smile. “I have a new plow being delivered today that I wish to assess in the fields before I order more. I shall expect a hearty dinner to keep up my strength.”
He was moving down the hall before she could reach anything convenient to toss at his head and whistling a merry jig he passed by the startled Maggie as she climbed the stairs.
He could not recall a day that had seemed brighter.