The Earl She Should Never Desire by Lara Temple

Author:Lara Temple
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2022-01-21T13:50:39+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Sherbourne House looked perfectly unthreatening. Even inviting. Like its neighbours it had a classical façade though it was larger than most and set a little back from the road. Otherwise it was unremarkable. There was certainly nothing about this pleasant building to cause alarm.

Except that she had to walk up to that door and demand to see Lord Sherbourne.

She pressed her clasped hands together against the thumping in her chest. It was making far too much noise. She closed her eyes and opened them and for a moment the carriages and carts that had been rushing past were gone, the road empty like the parting of the Red Sea. Before she could think she hurried across and up the three steps and raised the knocker. For the briefest of moments she hesitated and then struck it, twice.

The deep metallic reverberation was still thrumming through her when the door opened and the butler, Juan, stood there, a look of very English boredom on his round face. He stared at her, a frown gathering, and she remembered she was still draped in her veil. She raised it and rushed into speech.

‘Good morning, it is very important I speak to Lord Sherbourne. Could you please tell him Mrs Walsh begs for a moment of his time?’

Juan’s eyes widened and he cast a glance past her on to the street, but to his credit he stood back immediately, his face emptying of expression.

‘Of course, Mrs Walsh. I think perhaps you should wait in the study.’

The study had not been on their tour of Sherbourne House and she could understand why. It was far less orderly than the drawing rooms they’d been shown, with books and papers stacked on a sideboard that ran along the shelves on one wall and a haphazard collection of rugs marking different corners, as if this space was separated into little fiefdoms, each with its own purpose.

For a moment curiosity pushed panic out of the way and she stood there, absorbing this room where every element spoke of its owner. She wanted to go object by object and discover its meaning because she knew it was there, just as it had been in the little paper bird.

The first thing that caught and held her gaze was a framed drawing near the mantelpiece. It wasn’t merely the skill of the artist, but that she recognised its subject—it was a sketch of the narrow mountain pass above Astorga in Spain. A deer stood on a rocky outcropping above the pass, looking directly at her, its eyes glistening.

She remembered the pass because of that sharp finger of rock scratching the sky, but when she and Tim had passed through there as part of General Moore’s retreat in 1809, the area had been cloaked in muddy snow and sullen clouds and Napoleon’s cavalry had been nipping at their heels. Someone clearly sketched this in spring—the details of the flora and fauna were exquisite, down to berry-heavy bushes and the...

Lily braced on the mantelpiece and rose on tiptoe to gain a better look.

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