Page 5 of Ruined by the Wrong Earl

‘What a waste of your youthful beauty. What is it you desire, Nora?’

Unbidden, the Earl of Ralston flashed in her mind. His rugged dark features were as night from day from the dandy. Simon’s features were so perfect, so symmetrical, that any more delicacy would have made him too beautiful for a man. She inwardly shook herself. Now was not the time to think of the maddening Earl of Ralston. Rather, now was the moment to seize an opportunity.

She must take the initiative if she wanted her freedom. Not all women wanted to marry. Society may deem unmarried females as old maids, hopelessly on the shelf. She would relish that title if it meant she could read as many treatises as she wanted and spend hours talking with scientists who shared her interests. Even travel to the Continent to attend scientific gatherings. There was an entire world outside of marriage and London Society.

With those thoughts in mind, she took a small step closer to Simon, just enough to ensure he was focused on her. She reached out to touch his sleeve with her gloved fingertips and met his green gaze. She let out a tiny breath. ‘I want to feel reckless before I’m shackled in an arranged marriage. Do you know what that feels like?’

His body stiffened in response to her words. ‘I do, sweet. I do. I’m prepared to help with your distress.’ A lustful greed lit his glassy green gaze.

She batted her lashes and hoped she looked infatuated. ‘How can this be accomplished? Please tell me what to do?’

‘My room is on the left, three down the hall from yours. Come to me tonight.’ Eagerness tinged his voice.

She removed her finger from his sleeve, her eyes widening. ‘Oh, sir, I’m not sure I can.’

He licked his lips. ‘You can. Trust me.’

He was the least trustworthy person in Cornwall.

Leaning down, he whispered in her ear. ‘I can give you passion. Something you must experience before you are bound for eternity to a doddering, old man.’

It was bold. Reckless. Impetuous. Dangerous. Nora didn’t hesitate.

For science!

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Tonight.’

Chapter Two

It was well past midnight when Nora opened the door to her assigned bedchamber and glanced into the hallway to ensure no one was still awake.

Empty.

Perfect. She wore only a nightgown and didn’t bother with a robe or slippers. Holding a candle holder with a lit candle, she slipped from her room and softly closed the door. Her bare toes curled on the plush Wilton carpet runner. Her pulse pounded in her veins and her stomach churned at the thought of her daring act.

Tonight, as she hoped, Nora would be one of Sir Simon’s conquests. After they were discovered, Simon would never offer marriage and she’d be ruined. Word would travel and she’d be free from Lord Umbridge. Meanwhile, she’d take advantage of her liberty to study the unique seashells found on Cornwall’s coast.

A giddiness rose in her throat at the thought of her goal coming to fruition, and her feet crept across the carpet. She halted at the third door on the left down the hall, the one Sir Simon had told her was his bedchamber. She’d arranged for her maid, Rosey, to find her precisely fifteen minutes later.

Nerves tightened in Nora’s gut as she reached for the door. Anxiousness trickled down her spine at the bold action she was about to take.

Do not think too hard about it!

She swallowed, determined to take control of her life.

Her fingers rested on the doorknob. And turned.

Her flickering candle barely illuminated the chamber. Her eyes adjusted to the dimness to see a shape in the massive four-poster bed in the center of the room. Sir Simon.

His back was turned. He slept without a nightshirt, his broad back naked, the covers pushed down to his hips. She wondered if he wore anything lower down, beneath the sheets. Her heartbeat quickened with a different type of anxiety. He was in a deep sleep, and she could easily turn and tiptoe back to her room with no one the wiser. Everything would return to normal, and she could wake the next day pretending nothing untoward had occurred.

No! If she wanted her freedom, any freedom, she must take matters into her own hands. She was no longer a young miss fresh in her first season. At twenty-six, she had survived happily without an unwanted husband. She quietly closed the door and rested her back against the cool wood.

She blew out the candle and set it on a chest of drawers. The room was dark as pitch. Hands outstretched, her bare feet were silent on the hardwood floor as she approached the bed. Lifting the sheet, she slipped inside.

He turned and she inched forward and kissed him full on the mouth.

He stiffened and pulled back. ‘What—’