“Did Hartley say anything?” George asked.
Harriet nodded. “He said quite a lot, screaming at me to get off his land and never come back.”
Marian poured Eleanor a cup of tea and handed it to her. “Lord Hartley’s property and mine abut at the northern edge.”
“Thank you, Lady Dalling,” Eleanor said. “I must say that I didn’t realize there was any danger in Lady Harriet walking in the meadow. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have allowed it.”
“The grounds and meadow are very safe. No reason to curtail Lady Harriet’s enjoyment of the estate,” Marian said, pouring George a cup as well.
George took the cup and sat on the sofa next to her. “Thank you, Lady Dalling. I didn’t realize your properties were so close. When Evans and I went to see him last week, we left from Evans’ property. Unfortunately, Hartley wasn’t in a good way that day.”
“I’ve invited him for tea or dinner numerous times but have never even received the courtesy of a reply,” Marian said. “I heard he’s a recluse and have never heard of him accepting anyinvitations since he’s been in residence at Hartley Manor, but I thought he might relent and accept an invitation because we’re neighbors.”
“I’m not surprised. The first time I visited him, I couldn’t get in the door. His butler, Greenfield, is very protective of Hartley. This last time, Evans wouldn’t take no for an answer and pushed past the butler. Unfortunately, Hartley wasn’t in a very good mood at our intrusion.”
“Now that both you and Lord Evans are in Bath for the summer, do you think he’ll join us for dinner or maybe tea? Perhaps having his fellow soldiers here in town might persuade him,” Marian said.
“We can certainly try, but I make no promises, Lady Dalling. Hartley is a very private man,” George said.
Harriet listened with great interest as her grandmother, mother, and Lord Spenser talked about the Earl of Hartley. Though he’d been terribly rude to her earlier, she couldn’t stop thinking about the difficult lord. She hoped Lords Evan and Spenser could convince him to visit.
She definitely wanted to see him again and perhaps even have a civil conversation with him.
Chapter 3
Hartley leaned into his stallion’sneck as they raced across the fields to his manor, grumbling all the way. He jumped off Zeus as the only groom left in his employ walked out of the stable.
“Shall I take him for you, my lord?”
“No. I’ll rub him down today,” Hartley said, leading the stallion into the cool stable.
“As you wish, my lord,” the groom said, walking back into the barn.
As Jon brushed down the horse, he couldn’t stop his ongoing diatribe with only the ever-faithful Zeus to listen. “Who does that slip of a girl think she is? Coming onto my property and having the nerve to blame me for nearly trampling her? Who does such a foolish thing?”
As much as he wanted to dismiss the young woman out of hand, he found her feisty attitude quite refreshing, especially since she hadn’t flinched when she saw his face. As a matter of fact, she’d accused him of using his scar as an excuse so he could be rude and grumpy.
Did he do that?
Perhaps.
But who was she to question him? He was an earl. No one questioned him.
When he first learned of the moniker the people of Bath had assigned him—The Beast of Bath—he was upset until he realized that if he acted like a beast—growling and ignoring anyone he happened to meet when he ventured from his manor—he’d never have to interact with any of them again and they’d stoppestering him with invitations to various events. The invitations finally stopped, and that suited him well.
Soon after hearing what the people of Bath thought of him, he’d stopped leaving his home except to ride Zeus, his faithful companion. Man and horse had seen too much war together, and when Jon was sent home from the battlefield to recover from his injury, he insisted the horse be transported on the ship with him. Though the stallion should have been a constant reminder of everything he’d lost—his good looks, his confidence, his swagger—it was the opposite. The horse soothed his raging spirit like nothing else and kept him sane.
“You worked up quite a lather, old boy,” Jon said, concentrating on making sure his horse was comfortable. When he finished grooming Zeus, he stomped all the way to the front of his manor. It was childish of him, he knew, but he did it anyway. He was still angry at having his ride so rudely interrupted.
Greenfield opened the door. “Did you enjoy your ride, my lord?” the butler asked.
“No, I did not!!”
From the look on Greenfield’s face, Jon’s vehemence had shocked the poor man. He should be nicer to the few remaining servants he had, but at the moment, all he could think about was a young woman with dark hair and startling blue-gray eyes—the color of the ocean on a stormy day—who had upset his usual peaceful ride on his trusty stead. She was stunning, with her lush curves—curves built for loving—and the last thing he wanted intruding on his life was a woman. Any woman, but especially not that young woman.
He had no time for such frivolity.
How could he ever entertain the thought of courting and marrying when every time he’d encountered women in the past, they’d all turned away from him as fast as they could, horrified by his ruined face?
