Her Christmas Earl by Anna Campbell Read Free Book Online Page B

his kisses were. Those moments in his arms had been astonishing, a rapturous experience that would fuel her dreams.
    But by daylight, Lord Erskine had returned to the supercilious creature she’d so disliked. And she was sick to death of the world acting as if in marrying him, she won some wonderful and completely undeserved prize. Just as she was sick of the pity and surprise directed at Erskine when people heard of his sudden engagement.
    Nobody apart from her mother and Amelia had the nerve to say it aloud, but Philippa knew that everyone thought such a plain girl was lucky to capture this rich, handsome man. The sly glances silently congratulating her on her clever game were almost worse than the pity.
    Generally Philippa prided herself on her self-control. In her family, only her calmness and cool reason held their fragile world steady. Right now, she was ready to scream and throw china and slam doors like the most spoiled debutante. After four days of playing Lord Erskine’s inadequate bride, she burned to end this horrible farce.
    But devil take the man, despite a heavy fall of snow, he’d left for London on Boxing Day and she hadn’t seen him since. It was enough to make even the most complacent woman want to smash something. Preferably Blair Hume’s thick skull.
    His absence meant that she was yet to share her plan for their mutual rescue. He’d written to her uncle since reaching London, she knew. Only because Sir Theodore, who spoke to her almost as rarely as Amelia did, had informed her at last night’s dinner that Lord Erskine was expected back today, with the wedding to take place the following morning. The dizzying speed of events left Philippa queasy with helplessness. This was like being tied to the back of a runaway horse.
    Well, this afternoon, the runaway horse submitted to the bridle. Philippa heard the quick, confident step approaching through the barren woodland behind the Chinese summerhouse. On wobbly legs, she rose from the wooden bench outside.
    “My lord,” she said flatly as her betrothed turned the corner of the icy gravel path. She curtsied briefly. When she straightened, she huddled into her old black winter coat, several seasons out of date but warm. Thick drifts of snow lay about them and the cold was perishing. “You got my note.”
    “Apparently, or I wouldn’t be here,” Lord Erskine said lightly, although his green eyes were watchful. A faint smile twitched his lips and when he spoke, his breath clouded in the chilly air. “And good afternoon to you, Miss Sanders.”
    She blushed. She kept forgetting that he wasn’t her enemy. He was a victim, too. She supposed a real fiancée would inquire after his health, ask about his journey. But of course, she was only the girl he’d been cornered into marrying. “Good afternoon.”
    He smiled fully and despite her determination to end this travesty, her foolish heart skipped a beat. He really was a spectacular man. “Is this meeting wise?”
    Wise? She suppressed a hollow laugh. She’d moved beyond reach of anything resembling wisdom. Desperation had driven her to ask Mills to deliver the note requesting a private conversation. Over the last days, she’d come to approve of Mills. Nothing seemed to disconcert him and he treated her with a sincere respect that she’d encountered nowhere else since Christmas Eve.
    “My reputation couldn’t get any worse,” she said morosely, rubbing her gloved hands together to warm them.
    Erskine’s amusement drained away, leaving deep concern in its place. “Has it been bad?”
    This time the hollow laugh escaped. “How long have you got?”
    “I’m sorry, Philippa. I left you in a damned spot, but I had to get the special license. The sooner we’re wed, the better for everyone.” He didn’t sound like the haughty rake she loathed. He sounded like the man who had been unfailingly good-natured sharing a cupboard with a woman he’d never have chosen as companion. The man she’d kissed