If Wishes Were Earls by Elizabeth Boyle Read Free Book Online

safe. “She’s a trifling, really. A bothersome little—”
    “A trifling?” Harriet interjected, this time wedging herself between Roxley and his soon-to-be-or-else bride.
    A petite specimen, Miss Murray was now completely overshadowed by Harriet’s height. A hollyhock rising grandly over the faded spring blossoms which preceded it.
    “Harry, don’t you need to rejoin my aunt?” Roxley glanced over her shoulder at the crowd beyond. “Help Miss Manx with some errand or other?”
    Wasn’t someone going to come fetch her away? Even the Duchess of Preston or Lady Henry would do nicely about now.
    Of course, so would Bow Street.
    “Your aunt? Would you like to introduce her to Miss Murray?” Harriet’s nose wrinkled and she leaned in close. “I don’t think she would approve. But now that you mention her, it was about Lady Essex that I sought you out.”
    About his aunt? Roxley ground his teeth together. Of all the flimsy, unlikely excuses. He leaned in close and whispered at her, “Leave me be, Harry. Please. I’ll explain everything later.”
    “No,” she replied, standing her ground.
    She would.
    “I came over so you could attend to your aunt immediately. The situation is desperate.”
    Desperate? “Is she ill?” the earl asked.
    “No, but—”
    “In league with French agents?”
    “Well, of all the foolish—”
    “Is her life in imminent danger?”
    “Why of course not.” Harriet appeared as annoyed with him as he was with her. “It is her heart, my lord. It is in danger.”
    “I thought you said she wasn’t ill.”
    “She isn’t. Rather the ailment is a Lord Whenby.”
    “When—what?”
    “Whenby,” she corrected. “Lord Whenby. Oh, botheration, Roxley, the man is trifling with your aunt and you need to do something.”
    “You came over here to tell me that some aging Lothario is dangling after my aunt?” Roxley didn’t know whether to laugh or throw up his hands in despair.
    Of all the ridiculous notions . . .
    Harriet took him by the elbow and turned him toward his Aunt Essex. “This is a matter of grave import.”
    Now she was near enough that he could smell her perfume. It wasn’t violets or roses or lavender water for Harry, but something wild and indescribable that assailed his senses.
    Drove him mad. Chipped at his resolve.
    Keep her well out of this, Roxley. Well away from you.
    All he needed was someone, anyone thinking Harriet was important to him.
    Ludwick’s fate prodded him to do what needed to be done.
    “Harry, you demmed well know that is a lie!” Roxley stepped back, away from her, away from her perfume. Any minute now she’d flutter her dark lashes and then he’d be in knots. But his words had done the trick, and now the lady was indignant.
    “I would never lie, not about this!”
    But she wasn’t talking about Aunt Essex anymore. She was talking about them.
    He ignored the pleading look in her eyes and said instead, feeling like a complete heel, “Oh, now look what you’ve done!”
    Harry spared a glance over her shoulder at the empty spot Miss Murray and Lady Kipps had occupied. Then to his dismay, the chit moved closer.
    Again.
    “Whatever has you in such a fettle tonight? Were that mousy chit and that wretched Lady Kipps bothering you? They certainly appeared to have been overstaying their welcome.”
    “No, hardly,” he told her, setting her aside and trying to catch a glimpse of the heiress. “But you’ve gone and pushed her away. And tonight of all nights.”
    “Me?” Harriet’s lips pursed together for a moment as she considered his accusation. “Wasn’t much of a push if my arrival was all it took to get the lady to abandon you.”
    “Your arrival, if only! And carrying tales, Harry. That’s beneath even you. My aunt being romanced by some dilapidated roué. You wretched, impossible child—”
    “ Tsk, tsk, tsk . I’m hardly a child.” She tipped her head and gazed up at him. Suddenly she wasn’t just the simple country miss