Enticing the Earl by Nicole Byrd Read Free Book Online Page A

interior was hardly the best place to pursue passion, and certainly not with a new and perhaps inexperienced lover, even if his own servant had been exiled to an outside seat, which Boxel hated. No, Marcus wanted a more comfortable and convenient—and more private—setting than that!
    So he kissed her hand before he helped Mrs. Smith—he wondered how long it would be before she told him her real name—into the carriage, then Boxel scrambled in after her, and Marcus mounted his steed and led them out into the London traffic, ready to leave the city behind.
    Lauryn climbed into the carriage and sat demurely in the corner. She was aware of a distinct feeling of relief that the earl was not sitting beside her, but riding instead. She could postpone yet awhile any private time between them—not that it would have been private with the morose valet sitting opposite.
    What would the earl say if he found out she was using an assumed name, she wondered uneasily. Would he be very angry, indeed? Feeling guilty, she gripped her hands in her lap and drew a deep breath, trying to ease the tightness in her shoulders.
    At least Boxel was not inclined to chat. He gazed out the carriage’s glazed windows, and she turned her head and did the same to the other side of the vehicle. They left behind the quiet square where the earl’s residence was located, passed through the crowded streets of London’s shopping distinct and past poorer residences, more crowded and with houses more close together than the West End. But Lauryn had seen the other side of London, so these lanes came as no surprise.
    In time the coachman steered his team through narrower streets filled with drays and oxen pulling carts piled high with coal and turnips and other wares that kept the great city’s shops and kitchens employed. Sometimes they slowed, and drivers shouted at each other, “Give way there!” or “Mind the carriage, ye lackwit!” but somehow, they always slipped through the narrow openings without the crash that seemed inevitable.
    By and by the houses grew less frequent and meadows appeared, with cows and sheep grazing, and then fields dotted with farmers at work, and then the coachman cracked his whip above the horses’ heads. The team could stretch their legs and settle into a faster gait, and the wheels hummed as the carriage rolled along the roadway.
    After her restless night, Lauryn found her eyelids growing heavy. She dozed, her head falling back against the smooth leather squabs. So for her, the morning passed swiftly, and when the carriage slowed, she woke with a start.
    Looking around, she asked in some confusion, “Are we there?”
    â€œNaw,” Boxel said. “We’re only stopping at an inn for some refreshment; the earl must think you need a pick-me-up.” He sounded a bit scornful. “And to change horses, a’ course.”
    â€œOh,” Lauryn said. She had felt a stab of guilt. The valet had made it sound for a moment as if she were being a burden on their journey. Did Boxel think she was an imposition? But surely the earl, the much gossiped about rake, had had ladies—well, women—accompany him to his estate in the country before?
    She pushed some straying hairs back beneath her hat and tried to straighten the jacket of her traveling suit, hoping she did not looked totally wrinkled already after sleeping in the corner for several hours. Then the door to the carriage opened, and it was the earl himself who looked in.
    â€œWould you care for a light luncheon and a chance to stretch your legs, Mrs. Smith?” he asked politely.
    â€œThat’s very kind of you,” she told him, smiling shyly. She accepted his hand and his help to guide her out of the carriage.
    Now she could see that they were indeed stopped at a handsome inn, with flowers blooming in boxes hanging from windows and its doorstep brushed clean. Ostlers ran about, changing the team,