Read Online Her Errant Earl by Scarlett Scott - Free Book Online Page A

hell was he doing, staring at the pretty shell of
his wife’s ear, thinking about kissing her neck before the butler? He was a
candidate for the lunatic asylum. His fall from grace was complete.
    Feeling even more like an imbecile, he seated himself. How
could she rattle him so, this tiny scrap of a woman he’d never even given half
a thought to until last week? It was ridiculous. Embarrassing. Absurd.
    “Did you say something, my lord?”
    He paused, forkful of eggs poised in medias res to
his mouth. Dear God. Had he been muttering aloud to himself? He tamped down his
self-loathing, flashing her a patient smile. “Nothing at all.”
    They were quiet for a time then, but for the tinny sound of
cutlery on fine china. He was grateful for the respite. Cook really was quite
good, and he savored every bite of her moist, fresh-herb-laden eggs. Not to
mention the divine taste of the bacon on his tongue. Perhaps he would do best
to keep his mouth full at all times, he reckoned.
    “You haven’t given me any eggs,” she murmured into the
silence that had descended.
    He glanced up at her to find her stare upon him, direct and
assessing. She was testing him. “The omission was intentional, my dear. I’ve
taken note that you never touch the stuff.”
    Her expression softened. “How thoughtful of you.”
    Well, he wasn’t an ogre for Christ’s sake. He may have been
an inattentive scoundrel for the first few months of their union, but he did
have eyes in his bloody head. He was beginning to get aggravated by her aloof
air, and the feeling was a welcome one.
    He deliberately ignored her, turning his attention to the
butler who stood at proud attention. “Wilton, I should like to read my
correspondence while I break my fast this morning. I find I’ve a rather busy
day ahead of me.”
    He stole a sidelong glance at his wife to gauge her
reaction. Her plump lips had compressed into one of her pinched frowns. Her
brows were drawn together as well. Perhaps she was wondering what would occupy
him for the duration of the day and take him away from her company. Not a
blessed thing, but she needn’t know it.
    Pleased, he resumed eating his breakfast. He hoped she found
him as vexing as he found her. She was warm, then cold. Told him she loved him,
then wouldn’t look at him. By God, he was confused enough on his own without
her to further muddle things.
    “Is something amiss, Pembroke?”
    Yes, damn it. Everything was amiss. He was mooning over his
wife and lying to her at the same time. He raised a brow and fixed what he
hoped was a suitably wilting stare upon her. “Of course not, my dear.”
    He knew he shouldn’t dwell on his subterfuge. Unfortunately,
what had begun as a necessity now held much more dire repercussions. He had no
doubt if she discovered his motivation for becoming a husband in truth, she’d
wallop him in the noggin with A Tale of Two Cities . And once again take
up her addle-pated notion of divorce.
    He didn’t want divorce, that nonsensical American concept.
He rather enjoyed having a wife, especially one as delectable as he was
suddenly discovering Victoria was. Perhaps the novelty of it would wear off, he
couldn’t be certain.
    The return of Wilton bearing a salver of various-sized
envelopes saved him from further unwanted conversation. He dug into them with
the same gusto he applied to his meal.
     
    The sudden pallor of her husband’s skin did not escape
Victoria as he scanned one of his letters. She’d been watching him,
consternated by his sudden lack of interest in her. Odd that she’d become so
attuned to his moods in such a short time. Perhaps odder still that she’d
become so accustomed to expecting his attention.
    She yearned to ask him who had written and why it had so
disturbed him. But their olive branch was still lying on the table between
them, neither quite trusting enough to pick it up. Given his reticence in her
chamber, she wasn’t certain how far she could push him.
    He glanced up