The Earl in My Bed: A Forgotten Princesses Valentine Novella Read Online Free

Three princes much too old for her to play with. She smiled ruefully. In the beginning at any rate. At age six, Owen had no time for a three-year-old. However, by the time she was seven, there was nowhere she went without Owen and Brand. The ever-taciturn Jamie had kept to himself.
    Carriage wheels sounded behind her, coupled with the steady clump of hooves. She stepped to the side of the road and paused, recognizing Sir John’s conveyance. It slowed to a stop as it came abreast of her.
    The baroness stuck her head out the window, a ridiculous confection perched precariously atop her head. This one was more feathers than hat.
    “Paget! What are you doing? It looks to rain! Come within at once.”
    Paget smiled at her friend. “I’m fine. I’ll be home before the rain arrives.”
    Alice Mary rolled her eyes. “You always say that and then end up soaked.”
    Paget frowned. Had Alice Mary and Mrs. Donnelly been talking?
    Sir John then peered out the carriage window beside his wife, the two of them crowding the frame. “Indeed, join us, Miss Ellsworth. We can see you home.”
    “Better yet, return home with us,” Alice Mary encouraged with an eager bobbing of her head. “I’ve countless tasks to prepare yet for the ball and could use your assistance. Now that the wretched Earl of Winningham accepted our invitation, I can delay no longer.”
    “Come now, dearest,” her husband chided.
    Alice Mary pouted. “I know it’s uncharitable, but he has never been a particular favorite of mine. He was always so mean to Paget . . . looking down his nose at her. At all of us in the village. Remember, Paget? I dread seeing him again.”
    Paget nodded, not bothering to reveal she had already seen the earl. That would only sentence her to an inquisition.
    “He’s just reserved in nature, dear,” Sir John offered.
    “You are too kind, husband. Aloof and rude is a more accurate description.” She sighed. “But no fear. I shall be a consummate hostess and don a smile even for the likes of him. Oh, so many decisions yet . . . Shall the ice sculpture be a Cupid? Or is that too passé?” She wrinkled her pert little nose. “I was thinking the gentlemen might find a sculpture of Aphrodite much more diverting. I don’t want this to be like any Valentine’s ball before—” Alice Mary brushed a conciliatory hand against her husband’s cheek. “No offense intended, darling.”
    A smile twitched Paget’s lips, perfectly aware that Alice Mary’s apology was in reference to the fact that Sir John’s mother had planned the ball in previous years. This was Alice Mary’s first year as the new baroness. Paget knew taking the reins from her mother-in-law filled Alice Mary with equal parts delight and trepidation.
    Sir John took his wife’s hand and pressed a fervent kiss to the back of her glove. His eyes glowed with his usual devotion and something else. Something secret and deep.
    Paget fidgeted, her face warming.
    “Of course not, darling,” Sir John assured.
    Alice Mary blushed prettily, basking in her husband’s adoration.
    Paget cleared her throat, feeling awkward—not a new sensation when she was around her childhood friend lately. When she was in the company of her new husband, Alice Mary was no longer the same girl. Since she’d become the baronet’s wife—a definite coup for the daughter of the village’s only physician—an invisible barrier had risen between them. All at once she was a matron whilst Paget was still a maid. And not just any matron, but a glowing matron with secret smiles.
    Paget knew it was only partly because Alice Mary was now a married lady while she was not. It was more because Alice Mary was a happily married lady. A happily besotted, cannot-stand-to-be-apart-from-her-husband lady.
    Quite simply, they were enamored of one another. Paget suspected this was the grand passion she read about in novels. It was there, evident in their shared glances, the small touches between them. The very