When an Earl Meets a Girl by Lauren Royal

Author:Lauren Royal
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781938907005
Publisher: Novelty Publishers LLC dba Novelty Books

FORTY

“I HAVE A headache.” Priscilla lifted her elegant chin and calmly shut her door in Colin’s face.

Now what?

Distracted by his prank, he’d neglected to approach anyone at the ball to arrange lodging. At a loss, he wandered back to his carriage. He wasn’t about to drop in on a friend unannounced. And no one would be in at this hour, regardless; it was much too early for any self-respecting man-about-town to make his way home.

As Benchley opened the carriage door, Colin sighed. He could visit Whitehall Palace, where the court stayed up until the wee hours gambling and playing billiards, but he wasn’t in the mood.

“Bloody hell,” he said aloud, and gave Benchley instructions to return to the town house. No one even knew Amy was there, he rationalized, shoving aside the concerns he’d voiced earlier in the day.

As he settled back, his thoughts turned to the amethyst-eyed witch who’d wormed her way into his bed and his heart. Now, there was someone who appreciated his efforts at humor. A vision popped into his head, of Amy laughing the loudest when the prank was played on her. Her color high, her rosy lips parted…

He shook his head to clear the image. He’d known from the start that Amy’s request for a few days in London had been little more than a ploy to stay with him longer.

But, hell, he hadn’t been ready to part with her, either.

He never should have agreed—he’d known it was a mistake the moment “I’d be happy to take you to London” came out of his mouth. Now they’d be alone together in the town house. Alone, but surrounded by all of Charles’s gossipy, meddlesome court.

Damn, but this had been a bad idea.

Well, done was done. And luckily, Amy would be asleep at this hour. He’d sneak in, get a good night’s rest, and be out again before she awakened.

Where he’d go, in the early hours when everyone he knew was sleeping off overindulgences of the prior evening, he wasn’t sure. But he trusted he could find some way to amuse himself. Perhaps he’d breakfast with Priscilla—she’d certainly turned in early enough to be ready for company come morning.

He entered the house quietly and ducked into the study to pour himself a brandy before stealing upstairs. No need to wake the servants—he was perfectly capable of putting himself to bed. Even a hushed conversation might wake Amy, which was the last thing he wanted.

Sneaking past her door, he nearly choked on a mouthful of brandy when he heard the unmistakable sounds of a heartbroken woman crying herself to sleep.

Damn, she was still awake.

He paused, his fingers drumming on one thigh while he listened. Then he reached for the door latch—and jerked back, almost as though it had burned his fingers.

He knew all too well what form any attempts at comfort would ultimately take. Better to let her get this out of her system once and for all, he decided firmly. There was no sense prolonging the agony, or giving her any ideas that things between them might be different.

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