The Cheer in Charming an Earl (The Naughty Girls) by Emma Locke Page A

befuddled as he stammered, “Who, madam, are you ?”
     

 

Chapter Ten

     
    AUNT MILLIE laughed her throaty chuckle and tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. The practiced movement drew attention to the sparkle of an emerald earring as large as the tip of Elinor’s smallest finger. Good heavens! She could scarcely believe her mother had hoped for her to inherit Aunt Millie’s fortune. She’d feel inferior to her jewels, wearing such baubles.
    But that preposterous idea couldn’t possibly be conceivable now that she knew from whence Aunt Millie’s treasures had come. Not that it mattered, as Aunt Millie was even less likely to cock up her toes in the near future than Elinor had supposed.
    In point of fact, Aunt Millie offered Gavin a shallow curtsey. “I’m your aunt, of course. I’ve been informed that I’m still the spitting image of your mother. Don’t tell me you, too, believed I was dying?”
    His gape confirmed it. Grantham seemed to find that interesting, causing Elinor’s stomach to flip with mild panic.
    “Aunt Millie is an actress,” she explained quickly, before too many more questions could be raised. “It does relieve my mind to know I wasn’t the only one taken in by Mama’s ruse.”
    Gavin glanced from Aunt Millie to Elinor and back again. “Blast it all, but I should have realized it.”
    Elinor held her tongue. She dearly wished to ask him, How? How could he have possibly deduced their mother was concealing a scandalous twin sister from their family? It was exactly the sort of arrogant utterance a man would make. But Elinor kept her mouth closed. Aunt Millie was correct; the less said in front of Grantham, the better.
    “I think my head is paining me again,” Elinor murmured. She brushed the backs of her knuckles against her temple and feigned swaying. A fit of the vapors would suit her about now, wouldn’t it? It was sure to distract the men from their questions. She needn’t even pretend too much; she felt a bit faint already.
    Instantly, her brother and Grantham both leapt into chivalrous action. Only they didn’t share the same vision for her relief; at once she found herself being propelled toward the drawing room and led toward the front door.
    “Ah, I—” She tried to pull her limbs away, but both men were too strong for her to counteract.
    Grantham realized her distress first. He ceased tugging, though he didn’t release her hand. “Come, darling. Rest in the drawing room while I call for my carriage.”
    Her brother squeezed her upper arm as securely as if he had the earl’s cravat in his fist again. “You’ll keep as far away from him as possible while I make sense of what I’ve seen and heard.”
    Elinor forced herself to laugh as though he were being entirely ridiculous. “But Gavin, surely you don’t find fault with his sofa .”
    He glowered. “All horizontal surfaces in this house are suspect.”
    Grantham’s bark of laughter was so unexpected, Elinor winced. But her brother seemed to find himself amused as well, and a reluctant smile cracked his stony profile. “I can’t very well take both you and Aunt Millie up on my horse,” he finally allowed, and eased his hold on her arm enough for her skin to tingle back to life. “Moreover, I have a strong reason to believe there will be brandy on the sideboard.”
    “Buckets of it,” Grantham promised.
    Elinor frowned. The thought of her brother falling into his cups with Grantham alarmed her. What if they began to talk in earnest? “I may be well enough to ride, actually,” she tried, but the deal was done. The earl took her by one elbow, her brother tugged her other, and toward the brandy buckets they went.
    Aunt Millie followed behind, chuckling.
     

     
    THIS WAS, by far, the oddest spate of unexpected visitors Grantham could ever remember. As he escorted an innocent young lady, her irate older brother and their estranged aunt toward a drawing room that had served as a den of iniquity not