Unraveling the Earl Read Free

Somerton to find fault with your
behavior toward his nephew.”
    Mrs. Cooper harrumphed, clearly not ready to capitulate.
    “I knew Lady Hastings and I have a nodding acquaintance with
Lord and Lady Piedmont, his lordship’s cousins. I do not think it would be at
all improper were you to introduce us,” she continued pleasantly. “And you know
how the high-born can be. Sometimes it is best to simply humor them.”
    Henry was riveted by her voice, by the lyrical cadence and
the sultry tones, only fully hearing the actual words when Mrs. Cooper let
loose a great guffaw.
    “I do know,” the older lady agreed around her laughter.
“That I surely do. Well if you are quite convinced of the propriety, I would be
pleased to introduce you. Lord Hastings, this all too kind and gentle lady is
Miss Buchanan. Make her a bow.”
    Henry dutifully bowed, fighting to contain a grin.
    “Miss Buchanan, the Earl of Hastings.”
    Without prompting, Miss Buchanan dropped into a flawless
curtsy, her gloved hands holding her skirts off the ground.
    “Mind you watch yourself around his lordship,” Mrs. Cooper
cautioned. “He has something of a reputation. But you likely know all about
that, being from London.”
    “I thank you for the advice,” Miss Buchanan replied.
    “I’ll be off then. I’ve a mind to take tea at the inn this
afternoon. Will I see you there?”
    “I am not certain, Mrs. Cooper. I’d thought to start for
London shortly.”
    “Well, you come back and visit us soon, dearie. You are
always welcome.”
    With no more than a glare in Henry’s direction, the woman
waddled off down the street.
    “I don’t think Mrs. Cooper approves of your sort.”
    Henry hooked out his arm, not the least bit surprised when
she tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. “My sort?”
    “Libertines.” She peered up at him from the corner of her
eye as they stepped off the walkway and into the street.
    “And you?” he asked, making for the small green in the
center of town.
    “Oh, Mrs. Cooper quite likes me, my lord.”
    “Do you approve of my sort?” he clarified around a chuckle.
“Libertines, I mean.”
    “I have nothing against them, per se.”
    “Ah, so you’ve made the acquaintance of one or two.”
    “More than one or two, my lord.” She was looking straight
ahead, a smile tugging at her lips, and Henry took the opportunity to study her
profile. Her pale skin looked incredibly soft, her nose looked as if it had
been broken at some point. “My cousin Killjoy is a libertine and quite
likable.”
    “You’ve a cousin named Killjoy?” he asked.
    “A pet name,” she replied. “Given to him because he is
decidedly not.”
    “He’s not a killjoy?”
    “What sort of libertine would he be if he were?” she asked,
turning her head to gift him with a smile that was slow in coming but radiant
when it arrived. “Killjoy is a mischief maker of the worst sort, quite a bad
influence on anyone unlucky enough to come into contact with him.”
    “Let me guess,” Henry replied, “it was through Cousin
Killjoy that you made the acquaintance of more than one or two libertines?”
    “Like Mongol hordes, they swarm up the mountain to pillage
and plunder, leaving a trail of scorched earth, fallen women and bastard
children in their wake. One might think they, like their forefathers, see it as
their supreme duty to repopulate Scotland with English blood.”
    “Killjoy’s comrades are Englishmen? And here I was imagining
a pack of kilted warriors trampling the heather beneath their booted feet.”
    “Alas, generations of mischief and mayhem perpetrated by
Clan Buchanan have given us rather a bad name. While English mothers and
fathers warn their children of boogeymen if they should misbehave, Scots
mothers and fathers warn their children they might be spirited away by the
Buchanans.”
    “Never to be seen again,” Henry finished as they reached the
green.
    “As all of the Scots lads have been cautioned