But it was more than just her lips. He loved her goodness.

  As a servant, he had been mostly invisible to those of the higher class. Through the years, he had watched nurses and governesses for both Lord Downings’s children and those of his guests. Never had he seen one like Elizabeth.

  While she might deny it—Philip believed it was the proper thing to do—he was certain she cared for the children in her charge. Perhaps even loved them. She was kind and patient, offering correction quietly so as not to draw embarrassing attention to the child. She answered their questions and attentively listened to them.

  Philip saw the way Lord Culpepper watched out for her and beamed under her praise. It was not the attentions of a boyish fancy but more like the respect and adoration one might have for an older sister.

  Elizabeth would make a wonderful sister to Grace, who needed such an example. And in time, a good mother.

  And Elizabeth made him laugh. She may not be outwardly witty to most, but he found her most entertaining. Simply watching her cheeks change color could entertain him for hours. He smiled as he thought on her story of ambushing the Duke of Larmont. But could he offer for her? He had nothing to give her, nothing to make his offer appealing.

  Philip straightened the knot on his cravat. The more he thought on it, the more certain he was that it would be impossible for him to live without her.

  But to make an offer meant he must take a risk. And he was not certain he was up for the task.

  Papa, please do not force me to live a life of servitude simply for disobeying you. Lady Dorothea’s words from that day eight years ago, echoed in his mind. He had been quite certain she returned his affections. What if he was wrong again? Could he recover from a broken heart a second time?

  Perhaps he should start by seeing how Elizabeth’s ankle faired. If the visit went well, then he could gather the courage to ask for her hand.

  That was what was best. He would go to Briarwood and inquire after her wellbeing.

  Philip scowled at himself. You are a coward, Philip Jenkins. But coward or not, he could not bring himself around to the notion of an offer without some assurances.

  He gave his jacket one last hard tug, straightening it and shaking himself at the same time. He moved away from the mirror before he found something else to find displeasure in.

  Walking down the steps, he looked down into the entryway and followed the walls up to the high ceiling above him. It was a fine house—a fine entryway. But was it desirable enough for a young lady to wish to be mistress? Perhaps not Lady Dorothea. But as Gracie had pointed out, not all ladies were like Dorothea.

  Philip stepped through the door of the parlor, and his mother glanced up from her stitchery. Her brows rose. “You look very handsome, Son.”

  Philip tugged at this waistcoat and looked down. “Do not raise your brows at me, Mama. I have already received the look from Grace.” He frowned. “Why must everyone take notice simply because I changed from my work clothes? I had rather thought it would please you.”

  His mother smiled. “Oh, I am pleased. Make no mistake about that. It is simply unusual.” She looked back to her sampler. “Perhaps it is because you are always working. I am happy to see you take a break from the stable chores.”

  “Thank you, Mama.” It surprised Philip she had not questioned his reasons for changing.

  “Are you making a trip into the village?” She continued to study her needlework, yet Philip could hear the curiosity in her voice.

  “No. I thought to go to Briarwood. Miss Carter left her bonnet here the other day. I wished to also make certain her ankle is healing well.” He cleared his throat when his mother smiled. “When she left here, she was soaked through. I should feel quite responsible should she develop a cold and become gravely ill.”

  His mother nodded. “Yes, that would be terrible. Do you wish for Grace to accompany you?”

  Philip shook his head. “No. I am certain my presence will put the earl off enough. I do not wish for him to speak harshly in front of Grace.”

  The smile slowly faded from his mother’s lips. “Yes, you are likely correct. The earl is not so very fond of our family. It would be better for Grace to remain home.”

  Philip knew it pained his mother that those in the neighborhood still thought of their family as no better than servants. The earl was more than willing to point this out to anyone who would listen.

  She looked up and smiled. “Please pass along my regards to Miss Carter, will you, dear?”

  Philip nodded. “Of course, Mama.”

  Striding to the stables, Philip guided Adonis out of his stall and quickly saddled him for the ride to Briarwood. Normally, he would have just walked on the path between their estates. But with the unpredictable weather they’d had of late, he did not dare. The last thing he wished was to appear at Briarwood, dripping wet.

  Philip handed Adonis’s reins to a groom as he dismounted in front of the Briarwood stables. The stables themselves were larger than those of Greystone. But they were not nearly as well maintained.

  There was not a nail or board loose within the Greystone stables. Briarwood could not boast as much. Philip’s pride in his stable was second only to his pride in his horses.

  The groom dipped his head. “I will take him from you, Mr. Jenkins, sir.”

  Philip smiled. “Thank you, James.”

  Walking up the wide front steps, Philip patted his pockets, feeling for the calling card he had tucked in there before he left Greystone. The earl was rather adamant about calling cards, even though most of the staff knew Philip by name.

  Philip knocked on the door and took a step back, running a hand down his coat sleeves and checking his pants. Was there anything the earl would find lacking? Philip shrugged. Likely. The earl always found Philip lacking. And if there was nothing to find, he would surely make something up.

  The butler opened the door and Philip thrust his card forward, his other hand tightening around the bonnet ribbons. “Miss Carter dropped her bonnet yesterday. I came to return it.”

  The butler reached forward. “I will see she receives it.”

  Philip put the hand with the bonnet behind his back. “I, uh. I also wished to check on her recovery. When last I saw her, she was badly injured.”

  The butler nodded, looking Philip up and down. “Please come in. I shall see if she is available.” He turned his back to Philip. “It is likely she is teaching the children at present.”

  Philip nodded. “Yes, I understand.”

  “Wait here, Mr. Jenkins.” The butler sounded mildly irritated as he motioned to a corner of the entryway. He moved to the coatroom doorway and began whispering to a footman. Their eyes flicked to Philip many times during the brief conversation before the footman nodded and walked up the staircase.

  Philip clasped his hands behind his back, the brim of Elizabeth’s bonnet bouncing against the backside of his knees. Perhaps he should have just given the bonnet over to the butler. Elizabeth was surely busy.

  Hours ticked by. Or perhaps it was only minutes.

  Philip shifted from one foot to the other. He glanced at the butler several times, offering a weak smile each time. This seemed less and less like a good idea. Perhaps Philip had romanticized his time with Elizabeth in the stable. She had been cold and hurt, which had likely made her vulnerable. Had he taken advantage of her vulnerability? Philip frowned.

  “Mr. Jenkins, if you will follow me. Miss Carter asks that you meet with her in the schoolroom as it is too difficult for her to use the stairs.”

  Philip nodded, sucking in a quiet breath through his nose. This was why he had built up his defenses against women. He hated feeling weak and dependent upon another for his happiness. Could he be happy without her? The thudding in his chest made him wonder.

  However, when he stepped through the doorway into the schoolroom and saw Elizabeth sitting at the child-sized table, his apprehension fell away. She was here, and she was smiling up at him. That had to mean something, did it not? Lady Dorothea had never looked at him as Elizabeth did.

  She smiled and motioned to a chair across from her. “Mr. Jenkins. Please, have a seat.”

  Philip moved over and sat down, his knees coming up to his chest in the child-sized chair. He slid the bonnet across the table. “Your bonnet must have fallen off when you fell.”

  He smiled when her face turned crimson. Was she thinking back on how her bonnet had really come loose? He had relived that moment more times than he could count.

  She pulled the hat toward her, and the silken ribbon slid through his fingertips. “Thank you for returning it. I was uncertain where I had lost it and it is one of my favorite bonnets.” She glanced up from the tabletop, and her gaze met his. The smell of orange blossoms filled the air between them. How had he believed this was not worth the risk? Now that he was here, he was ready to risk everything if it meant being with her.

  This was right. This was what he wanted.

  She shifted. “Was there something else, Mr. Jenkins? Shall I ring for tea?”

  Philip shook his head. He knew he wished to offer for her, but he could not do so here in the schoolroom. It was the least romantic place he could think of to profess one’s love. Except for perhaps the corridor.

  At the very least, a parlor would do, if the gardens were unavailable.

  He shook his head. “No. I did not intend to disrupt the children’s studies for an extended time. I simply wished to know how your ankle faired. And to assure myself that you had not taken ill.”

  She blushed again. He did not know why, yet it did not stop him from enjoying the sight of it. “As you can see, I am well. The poultice Heath has been applying is working wonders. The swelling has gone down, and the pain is decreasing.”

  Philip stood up, even as his heart told him to stay there forever. “I am pleased to receive such a report and to see with my own eyes that you are well.”

  Elizabeth nodded.

  Philip stood there, staring down at her. Neither spoke for what must have been a full minute.

  Elizabeth cleared her throat.

  “Oh, I almost forgot to pass along my mother’s regards.” He nodded his head like an idiot. “Yes, well. I must be on my way. Good day, Miss Carter.”

  She smiled and awkwardly stood up.

  He put his hands out to steady her. “You mustn’t stand, Miss Carter. The doctor said you were to stay off your ankle.”

  She looked down at her single foot standing on the floor. “I am not on my injured foot, Mr. Jenkins. You need not worry.” She looked around the room at the other governesses, all of whom looked to be far too intent on their charges to truly not be listening to his conversation. “Thank you, Philip. It was pleasant seeing you again. I had not thought I would before we returned to Kent.” Her voice was low and the sound of his name on her lips warmed his belly and chest.

  “If I do not see you before you leave, safe travels, Ellie.” He had no intention of allowing her to return to Kent. But with all the listening ears in the schoolroom, it seemed best to pretend she would leave.

  She tilted her head to the side. “My mother used to call me by that name.”

  Philip frowned. “I’m sorry. I should not have been so presumptuous.”

  She shook her head. “Please, do not apologize. I find I rather like it, coming from you.”

  If he had any doubts before about his feelings for her, they were gone now. She seemed more than amiable to him, and he could no longer deny he loved her. He loved Ellie. And he would see that she knew it before she removed herself to Kent.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Elle wrung her hands, twisting so hard the blood seemed to leech from them. Philip’s visit had been unexpected, but in no way unwelcome. It had thrilled her when the footman told her Philip was at Briarwood to see her. Surely if he cared nothing for her, he would have simply left the bonnet with the butler and returned to Greystone. But he had wished to see her.

  She bit her lip to keep the cry of happiness inside.

  “Miss Carter. His lordship wishes to see you.” A maid dipped a curtsy. “Please follow me.”

  Elle looked at Katie and Winston, her brows raised. “Please continue reading. I shall return shortly.” She looked at Winston. “If Lady Katie does not know a word, please help her, my lord.”

  Winston nodded.

  She stood up gingerly, grabbing the walking stick Lady Kirtley had procured for her. It did not keep Elle from walking on her injured ankle, but it helped to take some of the weight off it.

  She followed behind the maid, wincing with every step she took. Where were they going? And why did Lord Ryecombe wish to speak with her? Her stomach twisted. Had she done something wrong that he thought to reprimand her for?

  They stopped outside a door. Thankfully, they had traversed no stairs, but Elle was certain they had moved to the opposite side of the house. Wherever they were, it had taken hundreds of painful footsteps to get there, and Elle was no closer to discovering the reason for her summons.

  The maid curtsied and left Elle standing alone in the corridor. She raised her hand and rapped lightly on the door.

  “Come.” Not even the door muffled the terse order from inside.

  Elle pushed on the door and limped inside.

  The earl looked up from the papers on his desk. “You are Miss Carter?”

  Elle nodded. “Yes, my lord.”

  He eyed her up and down. “Do come closer. I can hardly see your face in the shadows.”

  Then perhaps you should light another candle, Elle thought but kept her mouth pinched closed. She took several steps forward, clenching her teeth. The long walk had put her in a foul mood. Not only did pain pulse up her leg, but her shoulders ached, and her head pounded at the temples from bracing herself against the footfalls.

  She looked longingly at the chairs in front of his desk. There was a time when she would have been invited to sit down. Although, most gentlemen would still offer upon seeing her current condition.

  “I heard you were injured. What is wrong with your foot?” Ryecombe asked, lacking any concern in his voice.

  “A severe sprain, my lord. I slipped on the wet grass.” It was mud, in actuality, but this man did not seem concerned about the particulars. Indeed, knowing it was mud would likely only make him think less of her than he already did.

  “I am certain it was no fault of mine or my staff.”

  Elle’s eyes narrowed. Was he trying to place blame elsewhere? She had not inferred it was anyone’s fault, yet he made certain to remove it from himself. It only proved to irritate her more. The man had made her walk all this way on an injured ankle simply so he could shirk responsibility?

  “I believe it was only the fault of the rain, my lord.” Elle said through clenched teeth.

  He grunted. “I understand Mr. Jenkins came to see you.”

  Elle nodded.

  “Why?”

  What business was it of his? He was not her father, nor her employer. Why did he care who came to visit her? “My bonnet slipped off when I fell. He was simply returning it to me.”

  Ryecombe gave her a bland look. “But he came to see you, did he not? If he was simply returning a bonnet, why did he not just give it to Hollings?”

  Elle shifted on her feet. She was not comfortable with this conversation. It seemed the earl knew the particulars but wished for her to tell him of them anyway. “He wished to see that I was not ill after being out in the rain.” Why did she feel compelled to give him the information? Perhaps it was because he sat at his desk, scowling at her. Suddenly, leaving Briarwood the day after tomorrow did not feel too soon. “He was acting as a gentleman.”

  “Mr. Jenkins is no gentleman,” Ryecombe scowled. “It has come to my attention that Mr. Jenkins has taken a personal interest in you, Miss Carter. And as a friend of your late father, I feel it my duty to warn you away from him. The man is no better than a servant. I know he thinks himself a gentleman, but it is not the truth.”

  “Why are you telling me this now, my lord? I am for Kent with Lord and Lady Kirtley the day after tomorrow. Do you think Mr. Jenkins intends to do something untoward in the short time we have remaining here?” She shifted, leaning heavily on the walking stick, trying to relieve some of the throbbing in her ankle.

  “I have no notion concerning Mr. Jenkins’s motivations or thoughts. I was simply offering a warning. He should raze that house. It is nothing but a dangerous, burned-out shell. Making a few public rooms presentable, does not change what the house really is. He would do well to sell me the land and quit the estate all together.”

  Ah, the earl desired Philip’s land. It explained the ill-will the earl held toward Philip. But why was he telling her all this? The earl seemed to know all the particulars concerning her and Philip. Except for those surrounding the kiss. She pushed down her grin.

  Perhaps Ryecombe had heard something Elle had not. “I must confess my confusion, my lord. I have no notion why you should feel compelled to expose Mr. Jenkins’s true nature to me. I am certain my father would have appreciated what you are doing for me. But I have seen nothing to warrant your concern.”

  He steepled his fingers in front of him. “Very well. I only wished to make you aware that his motives might be questionable.”

  The earl was right. She had learned much from their meeting. But it had more to do with the earl’s true nature, rather than Philip’s.

  “If that is all, my lord, I must return to the schoolroom.” She dipped a curtsy and turned from the room, limping painfully into the corridor.

  Once the door was closed behind her, Elle leaned her back against the wall. Tears stung at her eyes. How was she to make it all the way back to the other side of the house? The pain in her ankle was quite unbearable after standing on it for so long. She slid down, sitting on the floor with one ankle propped on top of the other. How long would it take before someone came looking for her?

  “Elizabeth?” Henry—or rather Lord Amesbury—stopped midstride. “Good heavens, what are you doing there on the floor?”

 

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