A Countess by Christmas by Annie Burrows Read Free Book Online Page B

plenty of practice at taking backstairs, and haunting servants’ quarters!
    ‘Come in,’ she heard the Earl say from behind the closed door.
    She stepped into the room, turning and shutting the door behind her swiftly before anyone saw her. For some reason she did not want anyone to know she had arranged this interview. Not that there was any risk from the rest of the house guests, none of whom were early risers.
    But one of the servants might have seen her, and… Oh, bother it all! She spun round, lifted her chin, andfaced the Earl, who was sitting behind his desk, idly twirling a pen between his long, supple fingers. What did it matter who saw her come here? She had every right to speak to the man…
    Besides, he had been the one to send for her, had he not? Or would have if she had not spoken to his secretary first.
    Lord Bridgemere made a motion with his pen towards the chair which was placed in front of his desk, which she interpreted as a signal to sit on it. On rather shaky legs she walked to it, and sank onto it gratefully, placing the candle she had used to light her way down on the floor by her feet.
    He could see she was nervous. As well she might be, sneaking down here to meet him unchaperoned. She had taken care to make sure nobody had seen her, though, so at least she was not intending to attempt to compromise him. Still, he was going to take great care that she did not suspect he found her attractive, lest it occur to her to try her luck with him. She would not be the first young female to inveigle her way into one of his house parties with the intention of tempting him to abandon his single state. Though usually it was Lady Thrapston who brought them.
    A horrible suspicion struck him then. Might Lady Thrapston have dragged the older Miss Forrest into her matchmaking schemes? Was this lovely young woman the bait by which he was to be hooked? He must observe the interaction between the two ladies closely over the next few days, to see whether they were engaged in some form of conspiracy. His sister might have finally realised that he would strenuously resist any female introducedto him by her, no matter how fetching he found her, and switched to a more subtle approach.
    Helen was glad she had draped her thickest shawl round her shoulders before setting out from the little tower room, having checked this time that there was no soot on it. She had known the corridors would strike chill at this time of day, and the fire in this room had barely got going. Nobody had been in to light the candles, either. There was just her own nightstick upon the floor, and one very similar on the desk between them. It made the setting somehow very intimate. To think of them sitting alone down here, before anyone else was stirring, just barely able to make out anything in the rest of the room…
    She shifted self-consciously in her chair, drawing the shawl more tightly round her shoulders.
    Lord Bridgemere made no comment, merely lifted one eyebrow as he regarded her rather tatty shawl in that supercilious way that had so incensed her when she had thought he was a footman.
    Mutinously she lifted her chin, and ran her eyes over his own attire. He obviously intended going out riding. There was a whip and a pair of gloves lying on the table. But his jacket was of rough material, and the woollen scarf he had knotted loosely at his throat made him look more like a groom than the lord of the manor!
    Their silent duel might have gone on indefinitely had not an odd, plaintive noise emanating from the direction of the fireplace drawn her attention. It appeared to be coming from a heap of mildewed sacking that somebody had carelessly tossed onto the hearthrug.
    ‘Oh,’ she said, instantly forgetting her own grievancesas a wave of concern washed through her. ‘Has somebody left an injured animal in here?’
    Before the Earl could make any reply, something like a huge paw emerged and began energetically scratching at another portion of the