Historical Trio 2012-01 (48 page)

Elizabeth was uncomfortably aware of how alone they were out here on the terrace, none of the other guests having yet felt the need to escape out into the cooling air, leaving the stillness of the night to enshroud just the two of them in its intimacy.

She shifted awkwardly. ‘Perhaps we should go back inside.’

‘Not until you have told me what Tennant did to upset you,’ Nathaniel maintained stubbornly, the shield of his body not allowing her to go back inside without his agreement, which he had no intention of giving, not until he knew exactly what Tennant had said or done to reduce the normally stubbornly resilient Elizabeth to tears.

Seeing her distress had caused a tightening in his chest, at the same time as he felt an inner surge of violence towards the man who had caused it. He would know the reason why before he ripped Tennant to verbal, if not physical, shreds!

Elizabeth looked up at him beneath long and silky dark lashes. ‘Are you really sure you wish to know, my lord?’

Her comment instantly alerted Nathaniel to the fact that he might have somehow featured in the way Tennant had hurt Elizabeth and he became even more determined to discover what had happened. ‘Very sure,’ he bit out tersely, a nerve pulsing in his tightly clenched jaw.

‘Very well.’ She gave a slight inclination of her head. ‘Sir Rufus was concerned, owing to the fact that he seems to find you constantly ‘at my elbow’, as to your intentions towards me.’

‘My intentions?’

The wariness in his tone was enough to make Elizabeth smile forlornly. ‘He seemed to be under the impression that you choose your mistresses from the lower classes.’

‘Good God!’ The earl looked astounded. ‘He actually said that to you?’

‘Yes.’ Elizabeth’s smile widened as her sense of humour returned to her, no doubt due to the earl’s genuine astonishment that Sir Rufus Tennant should have discussed such an indelicate subject with her at all. Elizabeth had been shocked at the time, but after Nathaniel Thorne’s reaction she could not help but begin to find the incident amusing. She coughed delicately. ‘He seemed to be under the impression that you might very shortly attempt to offer me that position, seeing that I fit your preferences.’

Considering Nathaniel’s own thoughts had touched briefly on the same subject earlier this evening—and the way his erection throbbed achingly just from holding Elizabeth briefly in his arms a few minutes ago—he could have well done without Tennant’s less-than-discreet remarks.

He eyed Elizabeth beneath hooded lids. ‘And what were your thoughts on the subject?’

She gave a small trill of incredulous laughter. ‘I assured him that it was not even a possibility, of course.’

Of course. So it was a pity that Nathaniel’s own thoughts were still so undecided.

There was no doubting that he was attracted to this young beauty, or that it was an unsuitable attraction, considering her position in his aunt’s household. But as he had watched her throughout the evening and felt himself drawn to the sensuous elegance of her body as she danced, had witnessed the easy charm with which she dealt with those around her, he had begun to wonder if it might not be possible to tempt Elizabeth away from her employment here and set her up in a discreet household of her own, where he might visit her whenever he felt so inclined.

Which, considering the arousal caused from just briefly holding the soft warmth of her feminine curves against his own would no doubt be often in the first few weeks of that arrangement!

But it was an arrangement he dared not even think of suggesting now after Tennant’s ham-fisted handling of the situation—which had perhaps been the other man’s intent? he mused.

‘My lord?’ Elizabeth eyed him warily now.

Nathaniel sighed inwardly. ‘It is usually polite to wait until one is asked before one says no.’ Especially if the mere suggestion of it had reduced her to tears!

A frown appeared between her eyes. ‘I merely thought to share the absurdity of Sir Rufus’s suggestion with you, my lord.’

So not only had she found the suggestion so insulting it had reduced her to tears, but in retrospect she now found the very idea of such an arrangement absurd!

Neither of which was particularly flattering to a man’s ego, Nathaniel acknowledged ruefully. Especially when the remark was made by the young and beautiful woman he found so physically arousing! ‘You realise the reason for Tennant’s interference, I hope?’ he said.

Elizabeth was not so naïve that she did not realise exactly the reason for Sir Rufus’s boorish behaviour. But if he had thought to endear himself to her by acting as her protector in the bluntly crude way he had tonight, then he was going to be sadly disappointed. A gentleman simply did not discuss such matters with a single young lady, no matter how lowly her station in life might appear to be.

She gave a shake of her head. ‘I do not at all return Sir Rufus’s interest.’

‘You still have no inclination to accept an offer of marriage if he were to make one?’

‘I do not.’ Elizabeth barely managed to repress her shiver of revulsion at the very idea of marriage to a man such as Sir Rufus Tennant.

‘I am glad to hear it,’ Nathaniel said with obvious relief.

‘Are you?’ Elizabeth eyed him curiously. ‘Why?’

He returned that frown for several long tension-filled seconds before answering evasively, ‘Can you really see yourself incarcerated in the country for the rest of your life?’

As that had been Elizabeth’s fate until a few short weeks ago, she had to suppress a smile! ‘Devonshire is certainly a very beautiful part of England.’ She shrugged.

‘I doubt it would hold the same appeal if you were the wife of a pompous and self-opinionated man like Tennant.’ Nathaniel’s lips twisted into a moue of distaste.

‘Perhaps not everyone finds Sir Rufus as…trying, as we do?’ Elizabeth suggested fairly.

‘I doubt that is true, considering he is still unmarried at eight and thirty,’ Nathaniel said brusquely, having every intention of speaking severely to that gentlemen on the subject of Elizabeth Thompson before the evening came to an end.

‘Perhaps he has remained unmarried through choice?’ she mused.

‘Perhaps.’

Elizabeth glanced at him thoughtfully. ‘You speak as if you might know the reason for that choice.’

Nathaniel shook his head. ‘I do not believe anyone knows Tennant well enough to know that.’ Certainly not well enough to say with any certainty as to whether or not Sir Rufus had indeed been somewhat unhinged by the suicide of his younger brother all those years ago. ‘I am merely trying to point out the oddity of a personable and reasonably wealthy man such as Sir Rufus still being unwed at the advanced age of eight and thirty.’

‘In what way odd?’ she pounced.

Nathaniel seriously regretted even broaching this subject. Not because he did not wish to turn Elizabeth’s sympathy away from Sir Rufus—because he most certainly did—but Giles Tennant taking his own life had left a nasty taste in the mouths of all in society.

Affairs in society, and there were many, were usually conducted behind closed doors, well away from prying eyes and the sight, if not the knowledge, of one’s spouse. That Giles Tennant had not only conducted such an affair with a married woman, but that the woman in question had actually deserted her husband and children to be openly at his side, had shaken society to its very foundations.

The two had been ostracised totally, of course; affairs were an accepted part of society, but a young man living openly with a married woman who had deserted her husband and children was not.

Even so, the two had remained in London, seemingly too much in love with each other to care that society now shunned them. And so Sir Rufus Tennant had been called upon to try to talk some sense into his younger brother. Which he had obviously failed to do; the couple had continued to live openly together for several more weeks before Giles had killed first his married lover, then himself.

Surely that was enough to unhinge even the most emotionally balanced of men, as Sir Rufus Tennant had always been considered to be?

‘Lord Thorne…?’

‘I apologise.’ Nathaniel shook off the darkness of his memories at Elizabeth’s softly spoken query; after all, it had been many years ago—he had only known Giles Tennant socially, and his married lover not at all. ‘I was merely wondering if perhaps the reason for Sir Rufus’s comments was because his own intentions towards you are no more honourable than he has claimed mine to be?’ he suggested.

Her eyes widened. ‘You believe he might offer to make me his mistress?’

‘It is a possibility,’ Nathaniel allowed grimly.

Elizabeth considered she had heard quite enough on that particular subject this evening! ‘Then it appears I would be well advised to avoid being alone in the company of both of you.’

‘Eliz—’

‘I wish you goodnight, Lord Thorne,’ she added firmly before turning swiftly on her heel and going back into the warmth and noise of the ballroom.

Well away from the disturbing company of Nathaniel Thorne.

Chapter Seven

‘I
wonder if you would mind leaving us for a while, Letitia?’ Mrs Wilson smiled kindly at her cousin, as the three ladies sat together in the drawing room. ‘I wish to talk privately to Betsy for a few minutes.’

The day following Mrs Wilson’s dinner party had proved to be a busy one for Elizabeth, the morning spent, as she had predicted, in helping to tidy away, and the afternoon with receiving those ladies wishing to call and thank Mrs Wilson personally for such a wonderful dinner and entertainment the evening before.

Elizabeth had not seen Lord Thorne at all today, Sewell having informed Mrs Wilson at breakfast this morning that the earl had received several letters of correspondence that necessitated he spend most of the day in the library. Nor did he wish to be disturbed.

Weary from all the activity and visitors, Elizabeth had minutes ago excused herself from Mrs Wilson’s presence with the intention of taking Hector for his afternoon walk. Her employer’s request that she linger for a few minutes more so that she might ‘talk to her privately’ did not bode well…

‘Do sit down again for a few moments, my dear,’ Mrs Wilson chided gently as Elizabeth stood warily beside the doorway through which Letitia had just quietly left.

She sat down on the edge of a chair; Mrs Wilson was such a forceful woman it was impossible to ignore even her lightest request! ‘Have I done something to displease you?’ After the events of yesterday evening, Elizabeth suspected the worst. ‘I assure you, I did nothing last evening to encourage the attentions of Sir Rufus or Viscount Rutledge.’ Her cheeks coloured self-consciously as she omitted the name of the one man whose attentions were most likely to have caused Mrs Wilson’s displeasure.

‘It has been my experience that a beautiful young woman does not have to do anything to encourage a gentleman’s attentions,’ Mrs Wilson stated drily.

‘Perhaps not.’ A frown puckered Elizabeth’s creamy brow. ‘Nevertheless, I assure you that I did not seek out the company of either of those gentlemen.’

‘My dear girl…’ Mrs Wilson gave a perplexed shake of her head ‘…you seem to be under the impression that I wish to chastise you for something you either did or said during the course of yesterday evening.’

‘You do not…?’ Elizabeth eyed the older woman uncertainly.

‘Certainly not. Indeed, it has ever been the way of it that gentlemen will make fools of themselves over a pretty gel.’ Her employer gave a contemptuous snort.

Then Elizabeth was completely at a loss as to why the other woman might wish to talk to her privately.

Mrs Wilson’s gaze was piercing. ‘You have been with me for several weeks now, and—tell me, are you happy in your employment with me?’

‘Very much so.’ Some of the tension left Elizabeth’s shoulders—who could not be happy working in the household of such a kind lady as Mrs Gertrude Wilson, with the added boon of having darling Hector to care for?

‘But it is not what you were born to, is it?’

Elizabeth realised that she had allowed herself to relax too soon as that shrewd gaze seemed to see right into the guilty heart of her. She turned her own eyes away to moisten dry lips, not quite sure how she should answer.

‘Come now, Elizabeth,’ Mrs Wilson encouraged. ‘It is obvious to me that your voice and manners are those of a lady.’

The fact that the older woman had used her full name was in no way reassuring either! ‘A lady fallen upon hard times, perhaps,’ she explained evasively.

‘Perhaps.’ Mrs Wilson nodded slowly. ‘I have become fond of you these past weeks, Elizabeth, and I would not like to think that… Are you in some sort of trouble? With your family, or possibly…’ she shuddered ‘…the law?’

‘Did Lord Thorne instigate these doubts in your mind about me, Mrs Wilson?’ Elizabeth’s impatience with that gentleman was barely contained.

‘Osbourne?’ The puzzlement on Mrs Wilson’s face was enough to show that her nephew had not yet voiced his own suspicions to her.

‘I assure you I am not in any sort of trouble, Mrs Wilson,’ Elizabeth said honestly.

Oh, she had no doubts that when she and Diana met again, her sister would be most displeased with her, but Diana was never cross with either of her two headstrong sisters for very long, and no doubt in this case her relief at having Elizabeth returned to her would outweigh any serious upset. She could not care less what her new guardian, the scandalous Lord Faulkner, Earl of Westbourne, thought about her escapade, even if he ever came to learn of it, which was most unlikely as Diana would never betray her sisters like that.

‘I am pleased to hear it,’ Mrs Wilson said briskly. ‘But you do not—there is nothing which you would like to discuss with me?’

Having grown up without a mother’s guidance these past ten years Elizabeth felt the rise of an emotional lump in her throat at Mrs Wilson’s obvious kindness. To the extent that she almost—almost—felt tempted to confide her present dilemma to the older woman. Indeed, only the knowledge that Mrs Wilson could not possibly continue to employ her, once she was made aware of Elizabeth’s true identity and the offer of marriage from the Earl of Westbourne—a man Mrs Wilson was personally acquainted with and who was clearly a close friend of her nephew—prevented her from doing so.

‘I assure you, there is truly nothing to discuss.’ Elizabeth’s situation, whilst it might possibly be a cause for awkwardness and embarrassment if her identity became known, in no way affected her employment here. ‘Having no male relative on whom I can rely, I am in need of employment in order to support myself,’ she added for clarification; Lord Gabriel Faulkner might be her father’s third cousin or some such, but his relationship to Elizabeth was tenuous to say the least, notwithstanding his cold and clinical offer of marriage to her or one of her sisters!

‘Very well.’ Mrs Wilson accepted the end of the subject. ‘There is just one other matter which I feel I must discuss with you…’

Elizabeth stiffened warily. ‘Yes?’

Mrs Wilson smiled benignly. ‘Sir Rufus approached me before he left yesterday evening and requested my permission to take you driving in his carriage. My dear, I appreciate he is not the most exciting of men.’ Her employer chuckled at Elizabeth’s dismayed expression. ‘Indeed, it is the company of men like him that make me appreciate how lucky I was to spend almost twenty years of marriage with my darling Bastian!’ She sighed in fond remembrance. ‘However, boring as Sir Rufus Tennant undoubtedly is, I am duty-bound to remind you that he is nevertheless a titled and respectable gentleman.’

And beggars could not be choosers, Elizabeth acknowledged heavily. Except, even as Lady Elizabeth Copeland, she was nowhere near beggared enough to accept the attentions of a man as old and uninteresting as Rufus Tennant.

And it had absolutely nothing to do with her feelings for the young, virile and wickedly handsome Nathaniel Thorne!

Except, of course, it did…

Irritating as she found that gentleman, she could not deny that her heart beat faster whenever he was near, or that his kisses affected her in a way that was distinctly unladylike. Just thinking of those embraces now was enough to cause her breasts to swell and their rosy tips to tighten!

She shifted uncomfortably. ‘I informed Sir Rufus yesterday evening that I had no wish to go driving with him in his carriage.’

‘Boring but insistent.’ Mrs Wilson frowned her impatience with the man. ‘Do not worry, my dear, I will deal with Sir Rufus,’ she declared. ‘And if there ever comes a time when you do wish to speak with me about anything, then know that I have a sympathetic ear.’ She smiled encouragingly.

An encouragement that was almost Elizabeth’s undoing as she felt the sting of tears in her eyes. Diana was the most wonderful of sisters, a stalwart to both Elizabeth and Caroline since their mother’s defection, much more so than their Aunt Humphries, who had lived with them for many years; Mrs Wilson’s offer of sympathy made Elizabeth realise how much she had missed having an older woman to share her youthful uncertainties with.

She stood up. ‘You are very kind, Mrs Wilson,’ she said, her voice husky with emotion.

‘A secret probably better not confided to Osbourne—otherwise I shall never succeed in marrying him off!’ The older woman laughed affectionately.

‘I am afraid it is far too late to keep that particular secret, Aunt; I have long been acquainted with your kindness,’ Nathaniel drawled as he straightened from the doorway where he had been standing for the past several minutes as an unwilling eavesdropper on the ladies’ conversation.

A fact that obviously displeased Elizabeth Thompson as she rounded on him accusingly. ‘A lady must surely be allowed some secrets, my lord.’

Nathaniel strolled further into the room, aware that she was not now referring to his aunt’s kindness. Just as he was aware of how lovely Elizabeth looked today in a gown of buttercup yellow, her dark curls artlessly arranged about the delicate beauty of her face and emphasising the deep blue of her eyes. Eyes that had become deep and stormy as she glared her ire at him. ‘As long as that lady realises it is those very secrets that deepen and hold a man’s interest…’ He watched through narrowed lids as delicate—and guilty?—colour warmed her cheeks.

‘You have finished your correspondence for the day, Osbourne?’ his aunt asked.

He shook his head. ‘I am merely tired of being confined indoors, Aunt, to the extent that I have come to enquire if I might not accompany Miss Thompson and Hector on their afternoon walk?’

Elizabeth had not been at all pleased by Lord Thorne’s interruption of and his eavesdropping on her conversation with Mrs Wilson; she was even less so now at the thought of being alone with him again.

They had parted badly the evening before—when did they not?—and Elizabeth certainly had no intention of continuing that
risqué
conversation. ‘Are you sure you are well enough after the…exertions of yesterday evening, my lord?’

‘And what ‘exertions’ might those be, Miss Thompson?’ he asked pointedly.

Reminding Elizabeth far too strongly of being held in this man’s arms against the warmth and hardness of his body as they danced together… ‘Why, the dancing and conversation, my lord.’ She sincerely hoped that Mrs Wilson did not guess the reason for the blush that coloured her cheeks.

Nathaniel’s mouth quirked. ‘I may have been indisposed these past few days, but I assure you I am not yet so decrepit that a little dancing and company render me prostrate the following day.’

The warmth deepened in her cheeks at her intimate knowledge of just how decrepit this man was not! ‘I am sure I did not mean—’

‘Stop teasing Elizabeth, Osbourne.’ Mrs Wilson came to her rescue.

His brows were raised as he turned to look enquiringly at his aunt. ‘I thought you preferred she be called Betsy?’

‘It no longer seems…fitting,’ Mrs Wilson explained. ‘And I am sure that a walk in the fresh air will be good for the both of you,’ she added. ‘I believe that a short lie down upon my bed will serve me better!’ She was smiling as she stood up to leave.

Elizabeth’s eyes widened warningly on the earl as she saw the heated speculation in his gaze as he glanced across at her after his aunt’s announcement. As if he were envisaging the benefits of the two of them lying down on a bed together…

It was an image that both alarmed and excited her. It would no doubt be very exciting to lie on a bed beside the wickedly handsome Nathaniel Thorne. Just as her inexperience in such matters made her unsure and positively alarmed at what might follow!

Diana, as their Aunt Humphries had previously done with her, had dutifully talked to her two younger sisters concerning what to expect in the marriage bed when that time came. But Elizabeth had only needed to be held in Nathaniel Thorne’s arms, to be kissed by him, caressed by him, to know that there could be much more between a man and a woman than simply lying upon one’s back and allowing her husband to take his pleasure.

What of that tingling in her breasts when he held or kissed her? The hardening of those rosy tips when he touched her there? That hot dampness that bloomed expectantly between her thighs whenever he was near? There simply had to be more between a man and a woman than Diana had described!

A curiosity to know what that ‘more’ was had been well and truly awakened in Elizabeth by the obviously experienced Earl of Osbourne…

‘You really meant what you said yesterday evening about not wishing to go for a drive in Tennant’s carriage with him…’

Elizabeth glanced at the earl beneath her straw bonnet as the two of them once again walked along the cliff path—Hector firmly secured to his lead!—in the sunny light of day this time, the views of the Devonshire coastline magnificently displayed before them. Scenery that was wasted on Elizabeth at the moment as she could think only of Lord Thorne’s presence beside her and those earlier, disturbing thoughts of intimacy…

The earl’s comment revealed that he had overheard much more of her conversation with Mrs Wilson than Elizabeth had previously realised. ‘I rarely say what I do not mean, my lord,’ she said as she paused to allow Hector to investigate a particularly aromatic display of wildflowers.

‘Then you are unusual among your sex, Elizabeth,’ he said drily, very elegant in a dark blue superfine with a silver-brocade waistcoat and pale grey pantaloons, black Hessians gleaming brightly, his hat sitting rakishly atop his blond locks.