Married to the Earl (The Wallflower Brides Book 3) by Samantha Holt

Author:Samantha Holt [Holt, Samantha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Helstone Press
Published: 2020-02-10T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

“Will you be dining out tonight, my lord?” asked Bram.

Ambrose peered at the butler, his back straight, that tight line of disapproval on his lips. “The country was good for you, Bram. Perhaps I should have left you there.”

The butler blinked a few times. “You need me, my lord.”

Ambrose grinned. “I suppose I do.” He shook his head. “I’ll be dining in when I return tonight.”

“And will there be any guests expected?”

“Just me.”

To Bram’s credit, he barely revealed his surprise, only allowing himself the slightest twitch of a cheek. Ambrose well understood the butler’s surprise. Usually, after time away from London, he’d be hosting a party for all his friends, but he didn’t much feel like having company.

Or more to the point, he only wanted the company of one person, and she was not yet in London, it seemed. The housekeeper at her aunt’s house informed him that she was expected tomorrow. Either she’d delayed her trip deliberately and not told him or there was some other reason. He hoped the latter but suspected the former. Joanna was not so easily swayed and was ensuring he knew it.

He smiled to himself as he put on his hat and stepped down the three steps that led into the garden. He was not in the habit of pursuing uninterested women but then nor did he meet uninterested women. However, Joanna was far from uninterested. Perhaps she was scared. Maybe even confused. Whatever the emotion was, he was determined to cut through it and discover what on earth this was between them.

He strolled down the path that cut through the short gardens in front of the house. Past the wrought iron gates that surrounded the entire building, the streets were busy, crowded with an eclectic mix of people. A group of women moved together, like a flock of birds carving through the sky, forcing people to step into the road and risk being run down by carriages.

Not that any of the vehicles were moving quickly. The rattle of wheels upon cobbles often lulled him to sleep at night but there were so many carriages and wagons clogging up the street that none could move quickly enough to make such a sound during the day. He opened the gate and shut it behind him, smiling as a man with a London accent shouted at a driver whose accent was so thickly Spanish that it was hard to make out what he said. All Ambrose knew was that it had to be an insult in the way it was said. It seemed there were no language barriers when it came to insults.

Making his way down the street and past the large group of women, he tipped his hat to them and cut through St. James’s Park. There was rarely a time when it was not busy, but spring brought even more visitors to the area. Children played under the watchful gaze of nannies whilst couples strolled together, women finally able to swap their umbrellas for parasols.

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