The Reluctant Earl Read Online Free

reached the ground floor and a door that led out the back of the manor. Cold slammed into her as she crossed the snow-covered grounds to the stables, but grabbing her coat would have raised suspicions. At least the deepening darkness—and her governess-plain brown gown—hid her from curious eyes.
    The wind tossed snow against her face. Just when her fingers began to numb, she reached the stable. As she pushed open the door, a blast of warmth swept over her cheek. The strong odor of animals filled her nostrils, carrying her back to long ago memories of happier times. She seized her skirts and hiked them above her ankles so as not to return with any telltale bits of straw—or worse—stuck to her hem. “Wetherel?”
    The groom appeared from a stall. “Miss Vance, you shouldn’t have come out in the cold.”
    Or at all, his narrowed eyes and drawn brows warned as she passed him her note. But who else could she could trust with such an errand? “If you could see to the matter as soon as possible?”
    Once she’d returned to the house, she pointed her feet toward Lord Sotherton’s study. The chink of silver and drone of desultory conversation drifted from the dining room. Hopefully Lady Sotherton’s vanity had overcome her animosity, and she would keep her guest—and the servants—busy with an extensive repast.
    Once by the dark paneled study door, Leah lit her candle stub on a sconce and let herself into the room. A quick examination of his lordship’s desk revealed nothing new since her foray here yesterday. She blew out her candle and leaned back on her heels, surrounded by darkness. If the new Lord Chambelston had brought anything useful—any information that might advance the cause—he wouldn’t have carried those documents to dinner.
    Which meant she’d have to search his bedchamber.
    Did she dare?
    Gentlemen usually lingered over their drinks and discussions. Long enough for Leah to make discreet...inquiries? She reached for the doorknob.
    The click of passing heels set her pulse pounding until the sound faded away. Hurriedly Leah slipped into the hallway and crept up the steps to the floor above where family and guests slept. But not glorified servants such as herself.
    Lady Sotherton might wish to consign her brother to the dungeons, but doubtless her husband would insist that so august a guest be situated in one of the best rooms. Had Lord Chambelston brought a valet? His greatcoat had hidden all but his boots, and yet, she couldn’t imagine him the foppish type. A former sea captain, so the rumors claimed and so the lines around his eyes confirmed.
    Leah tiptoed past the dowager’s bedchamber—just in case the elderly lady had tired of dropping acerbic comments and retired early—to the premier guest chamber. She glanced over her shoulder, grateful to find the hallway empty. Grateful? To whom? She ignored the implications in her question as she pressed her ear against the door.
    Silence.
    She tapped against the oak.
    Still nothing.
    She twisted the knob and pushed. The door swung silently on its hinges. A fire burned in the grate but revealed no life within. Leah pulled the door shut behind her, the latch catching with a gentle click. She would have to hurry—but where to begin?
    A massive bed in a blue coverlet—a shade lighter than Lord Chambelston’s eyes—dominated the room. Hardly a place for a gentleman to hide important papers. She crossed the plush Axminster carpet to a mahogany wardrobe and tugged open a drawer. Only clothes. Would he hide documents among them? She riffled through the lawn shirts and cravats, ignoring—or rather, trying to ignore—the uncomfortable sensation of touching a man’s clothes, of inhaling the subtle scents of horses and smoke. And a stranger’s at that.
    How different from her clandestine forays into Lord Sotherton’s desk.
    And with a different outcome. If Lord Chambelston’s business included documents, he hadn’t left them in the drawers. She’d