The Earl Next Door Read Online Free Page A

her pride and stay; at least long enough to put her case before him and hopefully persuade him to speak to Lord Ravensford about having the traps removed. For she did not believe for one minute that he was who he claimed to be.
‘I did. That is, I do.’
He nodded. The mockery had left him altogether, not just his eyes. ‘If I have offended you, I apologise,’ he said, seeming to remember that she was a guest. ‘I have no wish to be on bad terms with my neighbours. Will you not let me offer you a glass of Canary wine, and tell me what has brought you here, on icy roads and in all this snow?’
She gave a sigh. She could wish the circumstances were different; that the butler had shown her in and that Lord Ravensford, a kindly old man, had listened sympathetically to her plea. But the circumstances were not different. The man in front of her may be Lord Ravensford, as he claimed, or Lord Ravensford’s secretary, as she suspected; but whatever the truth of the matter, she could not refuse the opportunity of having the mantraps removed.
‘Very well. That would be . . . most welcome.’
Having decided to stay, she walked over to the duck-egg blue sofa and sat stiffly on the edge of her seat, her cloak folded in her lap. She might have agreed to stay, but that did not mean she wanted to make herself comfortable. As soon as her business was over she would be on her way.
He pulled the bell rope that hung next to the fireplace, and after a few minutes – awkward minutes for Marianne, though not, she suspected, for him, as he continued to look at her with an amused smile playing round his lips – a butler appeared.
‘Canary wine, if you please, Figgs.’
‘Very good, my lord,’ the butler said, before departing to bring refreshments.
The “my lord” startled Marianne, and she looked at the man opposite her with mingled feelings of surprise and dismay. So he was Lord Ravensford. Which in some ways made her feel better – she had not been insulted by a common secretary, at least - but in some ways made her feel far worse. She flushed. Lord Ravensford had mistaken her for a lightskirt. She flushed more deeply. If only she could have held him entirely responsible it would not have been so bad. But her honesty forced her to acknowledge that she had hardly arrived in the manner he might have expected of Miss Travis of Seaton Hall.
‘Yes.’ He seemed to read some of the subtle play of emotions crossing her face. ‘I am Ravensford – even though my behaviour may have led you to believe otherwise.’
Marianne sighed. ‘I suppose I should load you down with further reproaches, but what’s done is done. Besides, I have a matter of much more importance to discuss.’
Figgs returned with the Canary wine, and after pouring Marianne a glass Lord Ravensford took a brandy for himself and then said, ‘I’m listening.’
He didn’t know how it was, but there was something about her that made him want to listen to her; and it went without saying, he thought, as he looked at her intriguing face and figure, that he wanted to look at her. A pity she was not a lightskirt. He allowed himself to forget for a moment that she was gently raised and contemplate the pleasures they could have shared.
‘I will come straight to the point.’ Marianne was fortunately unaware of his thoughts, and had decided that in such a serious matter a direct approach was best. ‘When my groom and I were out riding yesterday, we discovered a mantrap.’
He sat up, resting his hands on his knees as he leant forwards. ‘A mantrap?’ His whole demeanour had changed, becoming sharp and fully attentive. ‘That’s a terrible thing,’ he said with a frown. He sat back a little. ‘But I don’t see what it has to do with me.’
‘The mantrap was on your land.’
‘On my land, you say?’ he asked her in surprise.
‘Yes. Or rather, on Billingsdale land. I know the villagers should not be poaching, but when the winter is hard they often have no choice if they