At Last Read Free Page B

rushed
to the surface and he stepped closer, forcing her back until her
shoulders touched the rough stone.
    “ Look at me, damn it.” She
complied with obvious reluctance then regarded him with a
dispassionate expression he’d never seen from her before. “Yes, I
remember,” she said, her voice matching that blank look in her
eyes. “You know who I am, my title. That I wasn’t honest with you.
You’re obviously angry--“
    “ Yes, I bloody well am
angry, but not because you’re a countess.” By God, it was all he
could do not to shake her. “I don’t give a damn if you’re a
scullery maid or a royal princess.”
    A frown puckered her brow. “Then why are you
here?”
    “ Why am I
here ?” An incredulous sound escaped him.
“Surely it can’t surprise you that I’d come after you, especially
after you left with no explanation--“
    “ I wrote you a
note.”
    “ Aye. And a bloody
inadequate note it was.”
    “ It said everything that
needed to be said.”
    “ Indeed?” He reached into
his waistcoat pocket, withdrew the missive she’d left, and held it
up to her. He didn’t need to look at the words--they felt etched in
blood on his heart. “‘Dear Ian, please forgive my abrupt departure,
but it is for the best. I’ll always treasure our time together and
wish you every happiness.’” He crumbled the paper in his fist and
leaned forward until mere inches separated their faces. “I want to
know how you could possibly think those words were in any way
adequate after what we’d shared. Or why you leaving was ‘for the
best.’”
    Instead of appearing in any way cowed, she
lifted her chin and narrowed her eyes. “I’ve no intention of
answering any of your questions until you answer mine, the first of
which is how did you gain entrance to this soiree?”
    Reluctant admiration at her courage in the
face of his ire washed through him and he leaned back. “I sent Lord
Benningfield a note informing him I’d be arriving in London this
evening and requested an invitation, which he kindly provided.”
    She frowned. “Why would he do that?”
    “ Why wouldn’t he? He’d
hardly turn away the Earl of Marlington.”
    “ I agree. But surely he’d
turn away his groundskeeper...” Her words trailed off and
realization dawned in her eyes. “Dear God. You’re not...you can’t
be--”
    “ Ah, but I am--the
crabbitty curmudgeon himself.” He offered her a formal bow. “Lord
Marlington, at your service.”
     
     
    Chapter 3
     
    Feeling as if the flagstones shifted beneath
her feet, Sophia stared in disbelief at the man she’d
unsuccessfully tried to forget for the last six months. The man
she’d had to force herself to leave. “The Earl’s name is William
Ferguson,” she whispered, shaking her head.
    “ Aye. And I am he--William
Ian Broderick Ferguson.”
    Her gaze drifted over his perfectly tailored
formal attire--garments that clearly cost a fortune, and suddenly
things about him that had seemed incongruous with a groundskeeper
clicked into place. His love of literature and poetry. His regal
bearing. His expertise at riding. The ease with which he conversed
on any subject. Why hadn’t she seen the clues? No doubt because she
was keeping her own secrets and therefore hadn’t wanted to too
closely examine any discrepancies in his behavior lest they lead to
questions about hers. The fact that she’d been so utterly besotted
with him clearly hadn’t helped her thought processes. Even as she
realized he now spoke the truth, part of her still couldn’t quite
believe it.
    “ You lied to me,” she
said, not certain if she were more angry at him for his deception
or at herself for not suspecting the truth.
    His brows shot upward.
“Now isn’t that a wee bit o’ the pot calling the kettle
black-- Lady
Winterbourne .”
    Botheration, he had a point, which only
served to annoy her further. “I told you my true name. I merely
omitted my title.”
    “ As did I.”
    “ I had reasons, valid