Page 61 of One Night with an Earl

Could she trust him to keep a future liaison secret as well?

Chapter Twenty-Two

Ana had little time to contemplate things with Oliver the following day. The earl was busy entertaining the gentlemen, and the women had their own activities. A morning walk, shopping in a nearby village, daily afternoon tea on the terrace, and a visiting musician. The evening meal in the dining room was the first time the group was together. When Ana dared to sneak a glance at Drake from over the top of her wineglass, she found him looking back. His lips curled in a smile that made butterfly wings flutter in her chest.

Penelope shifted in her seat and drew Ana’s attention. The girl looked ashen and had rarely spoken, and Ana’s concern grew. She knew Penelope was upset. Lieutenant Smithfield may have been wounded, but he was alive, and the girl must not draw unwanted attention from her mother. Lady Malvern was already suspicious.

Ana nudged Penelope’s arm. “Eat something.”

“I have no appetite.”

“You must think positive thoughts. Your soldier was wounded, not killed.”

Penelope’s fair eyebrows drew downward. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“It should. And your melancholy is concerning your mother.”

Penelope shrugged a shoulder. “My mother thinks I’m ill and has no idea why I’m upset.”

She’s more perceptive than you think. Ana longed to say the words out loud, but now was not the time.

From across the table, Oliver raised his glass. “A toast to my guests at Rosedown. I may have arrived here for estate purposes, but you have made my visit here much more enjoyable.”

“Here! Here!” Lord Malvern and Mr. Cummings cried out as they raised their wineglasses in union. Lady Malvern and Mrs. Cummings followed. Ana lifted her own wine and caught the earl’s gaze—a brief look—but enough to see the gleam in his eyes.

And suddenly, his words seemed meant for her. Her heart thumped an irregular beat, and fearful everyone would see the pull of attraction between them, she tore her eyes away.

Ana let out a breath of relief when the meal ended. She scraped her chair back and followed the women into the parlor. For the first time, Ana was glad for Penelope’s excuse to retire early. After escorting the girl to her room, Ana closed her chamber door. She removed the lace cap, unpinned her hair, and ran her fingers through the long, curly waves that reached well past her shoulders. By the end of the day, her scalp ached from the pins. She slipped off her shoes. Rather than summon the young maid to change out of her dress, she sat in an armchair, curled her legs beneath her, and opened a book, Homer’s Odyssey, that she’d found in the library.

Hours later, just as she’d begun to feel sleepy, a low knock on the door sounded. Setting the book aside, she cracked open the door to find Oliver standing outside.

“My lord!” She looked right and left to be sure no one was about, then stepped outside. Dressed in shirtsleeves and trousers without a coat, jacket, or cravat, he appeared entirely different from the evening meal. A lock of dark hair fell across his forehead. Perhaps he’d been working on his ledgers in the study late that night.

“Hello, Ana.”

“You cannot be seen outside my door,” she whispered. “And I won’t invite you inside.”

“That was not my intent.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I want to show you something. Outside.”

“What if we are seen?”

“You needn’t worry. The entire house is asleep. If I promise to act the perfect gentleman, will you come with me?”

She pondered the question, but curiosity prevailed. “Give me a minute.” She slipped on her shoes and quietly closed her bedchamber door.

He escorted her down the grand staircase, through a winding corridor, then outside. He stopped to pick up a blanket on the terrace, tuck it under his arm, then walk into the gardens.

“You had that ready?” she asked.

“Just in case. I like to be prepared.”

“Hmm. I admit I’m curious.”

“The country is different from town in many ways, but I find the late evening my favorite time here,” he said.