Rescued By The Earl's Vows. Ann Lethbridge

him, bending to peer into her face as if he could read her expression behind the mask. ‘I don’t believe you.’

      While she could not see his face, his intensity made her breathing quicken and her heart flutter strangely.

      He tipped her chin with a finger, staring into her eyes. Mesmerised, she could not move. ‘Let me take you driving tomorrow and you can tell me all about it.’

      At the graze of his breath across her cheek, her insides tightened. He dropped his hand as if burned. Had he sensed her reaction? Oh goodness, she hoped not.

      Panicked by her untoward response to his touch, she opened her mouth to refuse. Closed it again as her brain overtook her emotions. This was what she had wanted, was it not? His help. ‘Very well. I will, of course, return the money you paid for my ring.’

      ‘I don’t want your money.’

      There was a seductive note in his voice. Her body trembled. Shocked, she gazed up into the void where his face should be, a face she could see in her mind’s eye. She had no trouble recalling the mocking smile on his lips. ‘What do you want?’

      She had meant to sound impatient. Dismissive. Instead she sounded scared. Weak.

      ‘I will inform you when we meet tomorrow.’

      She wanted to argue, but she also wanted to find Grey. Seething, she walked at his side, trying to think of suitably cutting words.

      He turned them back towards the terrace, strolling as if there were no undercurrents rippling beneath the surface of their silence.

      At the French doors, she dipped a curtsy. ‘Thank you for a pleasant dance and conversation.’

      ‘Pleasant?’ he murmured.

      Really, the man was impossible. On legs that felt stiff and awkward, with a heart pounding loudly in her ears, she marched in the direction she had last seen Wilhelmina. When she glanced back, he was gone.

      Oh heavens, what would he want? And how far was she prepared to go with this man? Her stomach gave an odd little pulse.

      Dash it, she would insist on gentlemanly behaviour, no matter what.

      * * *

      Jaimie had spent the half the morning expecting a note from Lady Tess politely refusing their engagement to drive. And the other half being annoyed by his lack of concentration on his work.

      He wasn’t certain whether he was pleased or sorry when no such note made an appearance. Of course there was a good possibility that he would arrive at the Rowan front door and be informed that her ladyship was out.

      And that would be that.

      Whatever had possessed him to invite her to go driving, anyway? It wasn’t as if she was the sort of woman whose company he enjoyed. She was prickly and combative. A less subtle female he couldn’t imagine. She didn’t even know how to flirt. They might have traded all kinds of barbs about those arrows in her quiver.

      Yet surprisingly, he’d enjoyed her directness and her willingness to confront him. He’d always thought debutantes an insipid, simpering lot. What he did not like, however, was that she had occupied too much of his thoughts these past few hours. He kept wondering how she had recognised him beneath his costume. Something had given him away. Perhaps she’d tell him what it was at their meeting. He certainly would not ask. He intended to keep their relationship strictly business.

      He pulled his phaeton up outside the town house and his liveried tiger jumped down and held the horses’ heads while he knocked on the front door.

      ‘I’ll let her ladyship know you are here, my lord. Will you come in?’ the butler said.

      ‘I’ll wait out here. My tiger has the horses, but they’re a mite fresh.’

      ‘Very good, my lord.’ The butler closed the door.

      Not instant rejection then. He returned to his phaeton.

      A few moments later Lady Tess tripped down the steps followed by an elderly maid. Last night she’d looked like a tasty morsel in her figure-hugging Greek robe. Today she almost looked like any other young lady of the nobility. Her pale green-and-white-striped carriage dress came up high at the throat, with several tiers of ruffles up to her chin. The gown fell to the ground with a festoon of flounces around the hem. A leghorn bonnet decorated with flowers and ribbons the colour of the dress perched on her head—but a few chestnut curls framed her astonishingly lovely face, perfect in shape and proportion, except perhaps for that stubborn little chin.

      It would be easy to dismiss her as an empty-headed beauty if one did not see the underlying determination in her expression and the intelligence in those amber eyes. Had she arrived at his chambers without her veil, he might have dismissed her as a pretty little schemer out for his title. Had it been cleverness on her part, or a lack of artifice?

      She raised an eyebrow and he realised he’d been staring. He came forward to escort her to the carriage.

      She tutted. ‘How are we to fit three people?’

      ‘One at the back and two on the seat.’

      He grinned at the horror on the maid’s face.

      ‘He means his tiger, Mims,’ Lady Tess said, frowning. ‘It is an open carriage. You are not needed.’

      The maid curtsied and scurried back indoors. Lady Tess, meanwhile, wandered a little way along the path.

      ‘Changed your mind?’ he drawled. He certainly didn’t care if she drove with him or not. Well, not much at least.

      ‘Not at all. I was admiring your horses. It is not often one sees a pair so perfectly matched, although the offside one is a little heavier in build, I believe.’

      His jaw dropped. No one but his own very expert groom had noted the slight discrepancy in the horses’ bone structure. ‘Got an eye for a bit of blood and bone, have you, my lady?’ Damn it, that was not the smoothest thing he could have said.

      ‘I like to see a nicely matched pair. My father had a pair of beautiful steppers. I would love to drive them.’ She leaned towards them, stretching out a hand as if to pat Romulus. The brute showed the whites of his eyes.

      Jaimie started forward. ‘Be careful.’

      She stopped before she got too close. ‘Testy, is he?’

      ‘Always. And, no, you may not drive them.’ Never again would any woman drive his horses.

      The expected pout did not make an appearance. Instead, she cast him an expressive look. ‘We’ll leave that discussion for later.’

      That discussion was closed. He assisted her up on to the phaeton and, on the way around to climb into the driver’s seat, he spoke to his tiger in a low voice. ‘When we reach the park you can take yourself off. I’ll pick you up at the gate for the drive back.’

      The lad touched his cap. ‘Yes, me lord. But stir yer stumps, would ya? His fussiness would like to be orf.’

      Jaimie stroked ‘his fussiness’ along his neck and down his wither and the horse settled before he sprang into the carriage and took up the reins. The boy leaped up behind.

      The animals weren’t quite as energetic as they had been on the drive over, but they were still feeling their bits. He urged them into a spanking trot, feathering between a couple of slower carriages and into a break in the traffic. Lady Tess sat calmly with her hands in her lap, clearly trusting him not to tip her into the road.

      Most normal ladies were notoriously nervous about anything that looked the least bit hazardous. Then there were the reckless ones, like his first wife, who took ridiculous risks. Clearly, Lady Tess fell into the latter camp. And he was a twice-born fool to get involved with her nonsense.

      ‘We are fortunate the weather is clear today,’ he said as they turned the corner at the end of the street. Weather being the safest topic of conversation.

      ‘After