Engaging the Earl. Mandy Goff

       “You will be helping me find a husband?”

      His teasing smile gave way to a sheepish expression. “My sister has decided that I will, so it seems highly likely. When I arrived, she presented me with the following list of gentlemen I’m supposed to bring to call on you. Were you unaware of my sister’s plan to have me bring you a husband?” Lord Westin asked.

      â€œNo! That is, I was aware of the plan, but I didn’t know that you were to be a part of it. She said that she knew the man to help put the plan into action. I hadn’t the slightest notion that she meant …”

      â€œMe?” Lord Westin also rose to his feet, the motion fluid and graceful.

      She decided then that no man should be able to move with the kind of lethal grace he did. Nor, Emma continued—since she was already in a making-pronouncements-mood—should any man be quite as handsome as the earl.

      Dear Reader,

      I want to thank you for picking up Engaging the Earl and seeing it through to the end! You enable me to do what I love most—craft stories that hopefully warm the heart and lift the spirit.

      I’ve been in love with Marcus since he waltzed into the drawing room in his sister’s story. He was everything I felt a good brother should be … protective, loyal and perhaps comically aggravating. But in his own tale, he became a complex hero … more complex than I thought he would be. Little did I know in the beginning that Marcus would have a long list of faults and foibles. Crazily enough, I think it only made me love him more.

      And then there’s Emma. Forced to shoulder a heavy burden, she continually had to deny her own wishes and desires in order to serve the greater benefit of her family. But in spite of her strength and courage, she let fear govern her actions, even to the point where it separated her from the man she loved.

      These two needed each other. And in a way, I needed them. Writing Marcus and Emma’s story continually reminded me that God’s provision is greater than my biggest imaginings and that there is no situation He can’t redeem if only I let Him.

      I hope you’ve been blessed by this love story. And I always look forward to hearing from my readers. I can be found online at www.mandygoff.com or can be reached via email at [email protected].

      Blessings,

      Engaging the Earl

      

      Mandy Goff

      

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      Do not fear, for I am with you; do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, surely I will help you, surely I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

      â€”Isaiah 41:10

      To Cheryl, who has been a truer friend than I ever deserved. Considering the countless hours we spend plotting and brainstorming, our shared frustration over searching for just the right word, and your willingness to read my manuscripts again … and again … and again, I can honestly say that I would not be able to do this without you. You’ll never know just how much I thank God for putting you in my life.

      Acknowledgments

      As always, my deepest gratitude to Daniel and Brie, for making my life not only complete, but also full. I love you both so much that I could never explain well enough to do the depth of it justice.

      To Mom, Dad and Megan … for simply being wonderful. I love you all.

      And, of course, many thanks to my editor, Elizabeth Mazer, who offers her wisdom, insight and expertise as I chase my dream.

      Chapter One

      Emma was going to be fired.

      She never should have given in to her parents’ entreaties to lie down and rest awhile after supper before she returned to her employers’ house. But Emma had been so tired that a chance for a nap had been too tempting to resist. Opportunities for rest at the Roth residence were scarce—her young charges saw to that. But Emma had assumed her parents would wake her before the hour grew too late. It appeared that in this case, as in so many others, they hadn’t employed simple common sense.

      Emma bid a hasty farewell to her parents, both of whose eyes were bleary with sleep and surprise after she barged into their bedroom. The clock in the hall struck midnight—which had been the alarm to rouse Emma from her slumber—and was still chiming as she closed the front door and stepped out onto the street.

      At this hour, there was little to no chance of finding a hackney cab on her parents’ quiet, shabby street. Her best opportunity at hiring a hack to take her back to the Roths meant going a few streets over where there was more traffic—and rather more danger, as well.

      Even this late, that part of the city still bustled with activity. Light, laughter and the smell of gin poured out from a pub she passed. Emma wrinkled her nose in disgust. She was leery enough passing through this area while visiting her parents during the day, and now with night bearing down on her, she was frightened.

      Minutes into her walk, the feeling of something creeping along the back of her neck made Emma stop in her path and turn around. Other than some ruffians many paces behind, however, no one was there. Chiding herself for being paranoid, Emma pulled her pelisse tighter around her and quickened her step.

      Footsteps on the stone walk behind her made Emma tense again. This time, however, she kept walking without turning to see what was behind her. She didn’t have time for any foolishness. Her employers had been expecting her return four hours earlier. If Emma didn’t find a hack soon, she would have to walk, which would add another hour or so to her journey.

      And Lady Roth didn’t brook such tardiness.

      Possibly it was nothing but a trick of the mind, but Emma felt like when she sped up, the steps behind her sped up, as well.

      Something coming from the left caught Emma’s attention, and when she looked, an attractive gentleman was approaching her with all possible haste. The glint of determination in his eyes made her step falter. For a moment, all Emma could do was stand stupidly on the sidewalk, watching the man come closer.

      I’m about to be robbed. Or murdered.

      Emma’s hesitation gave the stranger enough time to come abreast of her.

      â€œDarling,” he said, taking ahold of her arm and propelling her forward, “where have you been?”

      Emma stared at him, her mouth agape. In her surprise, the stranger was able to drag her forward several steps.

      â€œGet away from me,” she said after a second’s pause as she dug her heels into the sidewalk to slow the onward progression. But the command lacked any heat or force … no doubt because she was too shocked to be authoritative.

      Clearly her lack of forcefulness was amusing, because the gentleman laughed, loudly … as though he was playacting for an audience. “Don’t play your games, my love. Someone might think I’m trying to abduct you.”

       Did he just nudge her?

      No matter how hard she pulled or twisted, Emma couldn’t break herself free of his hold. “That’s exactly what you’re trying to do,” she hissed back. Screaming wouldn’t have been much help because thus far no one had paid their little tableau any attention. No doubt such interchanges were commonplace in this area and hardly worth notice or intervention.

      â€œNo,”