Engaged to the Earl by Lisa Berne

Author:Lisa Berne
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2020-02-25T00:00:00+00:00

Under the shelter of Sam the footman’s umbrella, Gwendolyn went down the townhouse steps and into the Westenbury barouche. “Thank you, Sam.”

“You’re welcome, miss,” Sam answered, and sneezed. His face was a little flushed, and, leaning forward, Gwendolyn said:

“Sam, are you all right?”

“Oh yes, miss, right as a trivet.”

“If you’re sure?”

“Certainly, miss, thank you,” and Sam shut the door to the barouche. Gwendolyn settled the skirts of her gown and pelisse, and the Earl, across from her, banged on the roof with his walking-stick, the signal for the carriage to move, and so they began their journey to the Westenbury townhouse.

“Hullo,” he said, smiling at her.

It had been two days since she had seen Julian, and for some reason it felt like years. Looking at him was almost like looking at a stranger—like the entrancing stranger he had been, that unforgettable night at Almack’s—oh, how very like a prince he was in the fairy tales, the embodiment of a girl’s romantic dream . . . but real. Living, breathing, alive. His hair as tawny as a lion’s, his eyes as green as the forest, with those fascinating flecks in them that reminded her of the gold bits floating in the sea at home.

A memory came to her then, from years ago. Hugo, having just gotten home from the wars, asking his younger siblings what they’d like to be when they grew up. She had been fourteen, a giddy, dreamy girl, and had said:

On the one hand, I want to do something useful and important. But on the other hand, I’d like to have some adventures. And I’d want so much to have a London Season and go to a different ball every night and have a beautiful wardrobe with all the latest fashions and meet my one true love.

And here she was—lucky, lucky her—having her London Season at last. She’d been to many balls. She had a beautiful wardrobe. And she had found her one true love. Who was sitting right across from her. Sometimes, Gwendolyn knew, people scoffed at the idea of love at first sight. But what did they know? Besides, it happened all the time in books. Which had to tell you something, didn’t it?

Gwendolyn smiled back at the Earl. “Thank you for coming to get me. I could have walked, though—your townhouse is only ten minutes from here.”

“You’d have gotten soaked.”

“It’s only a drizzle right now. Why didn’t you bring your curricle?”

“M-my mother thought the barouche would be more suitable.”

“Well, it’s certainly capacious. What have you been doing since last we met?”

“Mostly spending time with family, of course, but I did manage to slip away with Étienne to the docks.”

“The docks? Why?”

“There’s a sailmaker there—he’s commissioning a new mainsail for his racing yacht.”

“He has a racing yacht? Here in London?”

“No, in Bournemouth. We used to go every summer, for the races, and then we’d sail to Le Havre and from there go to Rennes—his family’s country estate is not far from there, you know. We haven’t gone in a couple of years, however.

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