Historical Trio 2012-01 (53 page)

She had called the situation between herself and Nathaniel intolerable, but it was so much worse than that. She apparently found it impossible to even cope with the natural function of breathing when in his company…

‘After our discussions on the subject at dinner the other evening, I thought that after our drive you might perhaps care to view the roses in my hothouse at Gifford House?’

The threatening rain mentioned by Nathaniel earlier this morning had not yet made an appearance, allowing Sir Rufus to call for Elizabeth in an open carriage which he drove himself. Elizabeth was seated beside him and Mrs Wilson’s maid and Sir Rufus’s groom were seated less comfortably at the back of the carriage.

It had been something of a relief for Elizabeth to take this opportunity to escape the claustrophobic atmosphere that now existed for her at Hepworth Manor; her cheeks were flushed and eyes bright from her enjoyment of this fresh and beautiful May afternoon. ‘I would like that very much, Sir Rufus,’ she said, so relieved to be out and about—far away from the disturbing presence of Nathaniel Thorne!—that she did not even care if that visit to the hothouse involved another discourse on the merits of horse manure as fertiliser for those roses!

Sir Rufus looked pleased with her answer. ‘You will not be disappointed, I assure you.’

Elizabeth was not predisposed to be in the least disappointed. Indeed, she had managed to dismiss her previous misgivings about Sir Rufus completely after his rescue of Hector this morning and had accepted now that he was perhaps just a man ill at ease in society. Which was not a fault in his character, she thought, merely an awkwardness brought about by a lack of social intercourse.

He certainly seemed friendly and amiable enough this afternoon as he pointed out the local landmarks during their drive, the spectacular scenery another balm to Elizabeth’s ragged nerves. So much so that by the time they drove along the driveway to Gifford House, she was feeling relaxed enough in his company to contemplate introducing the subject of Sir Rufus’s younger brother. The real reason, after all, that she had accepted his invitation.

‘It is such a big house for you to live in alone, Sir Rufus.’ She looked up admiringly at the pleasantly situated three-storey red-bricked house as he helped her alight onto the gravel driveway.

‘I have lately begun to have hopes that might not always be the case.’ He tucked his hand proprietarily into the crook of her arm as they ascended the steps to the front door.

Ah. In her eagerness to broach the subject of Giles Tennant, Elizabeth had overlooked what Sir Rufus’s interpretation of such a remark might be! She gazed up at him with innocently wide blue eyes. ‘You are perhaps intending to have family come to stay for the summer?’

He gave her a chiding glance. ‘I believe I have already told you I have no family.’

‘Of course you did.’ Elizabeth gave a false laugh, grateful for the presence of Mrs Wilson’s maid following at a discreet distance behind them. ‘What a beautiful hallway!’ she announced not quite truthfully as they entered the house to stand in an entrance hall much less cavernous than the one at Hepworth Manor and yet which somehow felt so much colder.

In truth, it was not to Elizabeth’s taste at all, comprising of dark tiles upon the floor and the heads of game such as stag and deer mounted upon the walls—no doubt animals shot by Sir Rufus himself on his rides through the local woods and countryside. Whilst Elizabeth accepted that hunting was a way of country life, she had always been grateful that her father had never chosen to bring home trophies such as these from his own outings with the hunt.

‘Perhaps we might go straight to the hothouse?’ she suggested brightly, anxious to escape the glassy-eyed stares of those heads mounted upon the walls.

Sir Rufus raised dark brows as he handed his hat and cane to the waiting butler. ‘You would not prefer to take tea first?’

Tea might dispel some of the chill Elizabeth was now feeling, but not if the drawing room should also have these same unpleasant trophies displayed upon its walls. ‘I believe I am too eager to see the beauty of your roses to bother with tea just now.’ She made no effort to remove her own bonnet or pelisse, the chill of the house seeming to seep into her very bones after the warmth of the sunshine outside.

Sir Rufus beamed his approval. ‘Then that is what we shall do!’ That smile faded as he turned dismissively to the young maid who still accompanied them. ‘You may go along to the kitchen with Campbell.’

Annie looked uncertain at the suggestion, leading Elizabeth to question whether Nathaniel had issued the girl with instructions not to leave Elizabeth’s side during her outing with Sir Rufus. She did not doubt that the earl was arrogant enough to have done so!

‘Well, go along, girl,’ Sir Rufus snapped his impatience with Annie’s hesitation. ‘We will ring for you when it is time for Miss Thompson to leave.’

The maid shot Elizabeth a last lingering glance before turning to follow the butler through the door leading to the stairs down to the kitchen at the back of the house.

Leaving Elizabeth completely alone in Sir Rufus Tennant’s company.

Chapter Twelve

N
athaniel had not intended to ride anywhere near Gifford House when he set out that afternoon. And yet that was exactly where he now found himself, seated astride Midnight as he reined in at the end of the driveway leading up to that austere red-bricked residence, scowling as he saw the open carriage standing in front of the house and attended by a groom as evidence that Tennant and Elizabeth were together inside somewhere. With Elizabeth no doubt basking in Tennant’s obvious admiration for her—

He was being unfair now, Nathaniel acknowledged broodingly. Rufus Tennant had as much right to pay Elizabeth attention as the next man. Their interlude the previous evening certainly did not give Nathaniel exclusivity where that young lady was concerned, especially when he could see no future in it. Besides which, Tennant—damn him!—had proved himself to be the hero of the hour.

Yes, very likely Elizabeth no longer found Sir Rufus quite so boring as she once had and was even now bestowing those bright and beautiful smiles upon the other man as he proudly showed off his home to her.

A home which Nathaniel was beginning to suspect the other man intended offering to share with Elizabeth.

‘How busy you have been, Sir Rufus!’ Elizabeth was truly impressed with the numerous blooms displayed in the extensive hothouse attached to Gifford House. As much as she was relieved at the warmth inside the glass building following the chill she had felt inside Gifford House itself.

‘I have enjoyed growing roses since I was a boy,’ that gentleman announced proudly as they strolled the pathways between the dozens of colourful and scented blooms.

‘An interesting hobby, to be sure.’ Elizabeth nodded politely.

‘I believe it has become more of an obsession than a hobby,’ Sir Rufus admitted. ‘Indeed, it has been a lifelong wish of mine to produce an original bloom.’

‘And have you succeeded?’ Having just spotted a display of the bloom Purity sent to her only two days ago, Elizabeth was anxious to divert Sir Rufus’s attention.

‘Indeed I have,’ that gentleman confirmed as he led the way to the far end of the hothouse where a rose grew in separate splendour from the rest of the blooms.

It was indeed a beautiful flower, Elizabeth acknowledged: a huge cream-coloured bloom lightly tinged with peach at the ends of the petals and giving off a strong and heady perfume as Elizabeth bent over it admiringly. ‘And what have you named your rose, Sir Rufus?’

‘Nothing as yet. I once thought to name it Harriet’s Innocence,’ he added with a frown. ‘But now that I have at last been successful I am not so sure…’ He looked down at her with an intensity that Elizabeth found slightly uncomfortable.

So much so that for a few moments she almost missed the significance of the original name Sir Rufus had chosen for his rose.

Harriet…

The same name as Elizabeth’s own mother. Could that be a coincidence?

Nathaniel had absolutely no idea what he was about knocking on the front door of Gifford House, his riding crop tapping impatiently upon one muscled thigh as he waited for the butler to open the door in answer to that knock.

By rights he should have just continued on with his ride back to Hepworth Manor. Except Nathaniel had found he could not. He had not liked the idea of Elizabeth going riding in Tennant’s carriage with him this afternoon in the first place; the fact that gentleman had now brought her back to his home, with only one of Mrs Wilson’s young maids as chaperon, Nathaniel considered to be completely improper.

At least, that is what he had told himself when he urged Midnight into a gallop down the drive, before throwing the reins to the attendant groom and sliding from the saddle to run up the steps to the front door. Nathaniel considered that any further soul searching into his reasons could wait until after he had returned a suitably chastened Elizabeth to the safe guardianship of Mrs Wilson at Hepworth Manor.

Elizabeth straightened slowly, bewildered as to what significance Sir Rufus’s original choice of name for his rose might have. Or if it had any significance at all…

She was unsure as yet as to whether or not Giles Tennant had been the young gentleman with whom her mother had run off to London. Although she would now say not; surely Sir Rufus would never have thought to name a rose after the woman responsible for his brother’s disgrace and suicide?

No, that would make no sense at all, Elizabeth realised heavily, meaning that she must have been mistaken all along, that there was, after all, no mystery attached to the death of Giles Tennant that related to the Copelands in any way.

None of which in the least changed the covetous way in which Sir Rufus was now looking at her!

Elizabeth realised belatedly that she should not have agreed to come to his hothouse alone with him, that she had placed herself in a position of vulnerability by doing so. Sir Rufus might be inclined to believe she welcomed his attentions.

She stepped away from him. ‘I believe it is time I returned to Hepworth Manor, Sir Rufus,’ she announced briskly. ‘Mrs Wilson will be—Sir Rufus…!’ Elizabeth gasped in protest as she found herself suddenly pulled into that gentleman’s arms and crushed against his chest as he rained kisses upon her face. ‘Sir Rufus, stop this at once!’

‘You are so beautiful, Elizabeth!’ He continued to hold her firmly in his arms as he kissed her throat and ears, knocking her bonnet askew as he did so. ‘So innocent. So—’

‘Sir Rufus, please!’ Elizabeth attempted to fight against the muscled strength of his shoulders, only to find herself held prisoner by the steely arms that surrounded her and now held her so close that it was impossible for her to move at all. ‘You—’ All further protest was silenced as Sir Rufus claimed her lips with his own.

It was a kiss totally unlike the ones Elizabeth had shared with Nathaniel and afforded her none of the same pleasure. Sir Rufus’s lips, overly moist, were also hard and demanding upon hers as he bent her back in his arms, kissing her with an insistence that bordered on painful. She—

‘Perhaps I have called at an inconvenient time…?’ There was no missing the hard edge to that otherwise pleasant tone.

However Sir Rufus seemed unaware of the earl’s presence as he continued to kiss Elizabeth with a thoroughness she found unpleasant at best and nauseating at worst. In fact, if Sir Rufus did not cease this attack in the next few moments Elizabeth was afraid she would be forced to succumb to a faint for the first time in her life!

‘Tennant!’

The sharpness of Nathaniel’s voice finally seemed to permeate whatever haze of passion Sir Rufus had been lost in, his eyes a stormy blue as he raised his head to look down briefly at Elizabeth and gather her possessively to his side before turning to look at the man standing further down the hothouse. ‘How dare you enter here uninvited?’ he demanded furiously.

‘Your butler would no doubt have announced me if you had not been…otherwise occupied at the time.’ Glacial brown eyes swept disdainfully over the older man. ‘As it was, I thought it wise to dismiss him and announce myself.’ That icily cold gaze now shifted onto Elizabeth, she having at last managed to free herself from the confinement of Sir Rufus’s arms and to step away from him.

She could only imagine how this situation must have looked when Nathaniel entered the hothouse. Certainly she did not need a mirror to know that her bonnet was completely askew, her curls along with it, her eyes bright with unshed tears, cheeks flushed and her lips feeling as if they might actually be swollen as well as bruised.

If that wasn’t enough, the disgust she could see in Nathaniel’s expression clearly showed he believed her to have encouraged Sir Rufus’s advances!

Elizabeth’s nausea returned. ‘My lord—’

‘I will give you every opportunity to explain yourself later, Elizabeth,’ Nathaniel bit out between clenched teeth before turning the full force of his obvious anger upon Sir Rufus. ‘In the meantime, I will be borrowing your carriage, Tennant, in order to drive Elizabeth back to Hepworth Manor. Your groom will return with it later—’

‘Now see here—’

‘I advise—unless you wish me to challenge you here and now?—that you not attempt to argue the point, Tennant.’ Nathaniel was so furious that he was in danger of striding the short distance that separated them and putting to good use the hours he had spent practising in the ring and for which he had something of a reputation amongst the gentlemen of the
ton
.

A fact Tennant was also well acquainted with if the pallor of his cheeks was any indication. ‘The fighting of duels is forbidden by the Crown,’ he spluttered.

Nathaniel gave a humourless smile. ‘Then it is as well there is no member of the Crown here at this moment to witness it, is it not?’

‘Nathaniel—’

‘I have suggested that you wait until later to explain yourself, Elizabeth.’ The mildness of his tone was totally belied by the livid glitter of his gaze as it once again swept over her with utter disdain.

‘But—’

‘You will be silent!’ Nathaniel was so angry—with Elizabeth, for her naïvety in placing herself in this tenuous position, as much as with Tennant having taking advantage of that inexperience—that he was seriously in danger of losing his composure altogether.

Something he never did.

As an only child of loving parents, Nathaniel knew he had been self-willed during his youth, with a wildness to match. Following the shock of his parents’ death, and his long acquaintance with his arrogantly self-assured Uncle Bastian, as well as Gabriel Faulkner and Dominic Vaughn, he had learnt to control that wilful temper and to behave on most occasions with the same indifference as his two best friends. Seeing Elizabeth in Tennant’s arms being thoroughly kissed by the other man, had pierced that icy control so deeply that he badly longed to beat Tennant to a pulp before shaking Elizabeth until her teeth rattled in her head. Or making love to her so passionately she was in no doubt as to whom she belonged with!

Which would not do at all. ‘Come, Elizabeth,’ he instructed harshly, waiting until she had hesitantly crossed the short distance to his side, his hand firmly about the top of her arm, before turning his attention back to the other man. ‘It would be better for all concerned if you did not call at Hepworth Manor again until after I have taken my own leave.’

Sir Rufus’s eyes narrowed to icy slits. ‘I do not take seriously threats from dissolute rakes such as yourself!’

Elizabeth drew in a sharp breath, knowing by Nathaniel’s sudden stillness that the other man had just overstepped a line and had delivered an insult Nathaniel could not ignore.

Not that she would not relish the idea of Sir Rufus being taken down a peg or two after the way he had manhandled her only minutes ago, but she did not want to risk Nathaniel suffering any harm, either socially or physically. Socially, he ran the risk of being banished by the
ton
on instruction from the Crown for the fighting of a duel. And physically… A single glance at the tensed muscles beneath Nathaniel’s perfectly tailored black superfine, and the lithe fitness of the rest of his body, was enough to tell her that he was more than capable of besting the older man in any show of physical strength, even with his still-healing injuries.

Nevertheless, Elizabeth knew that her coming here alone with Sir Rufus was directly responsible for the tense situation that now existed between these two men. ‘Could we just leave now, Nathaniel? Please?’ She turned to look up at him beseechingly. ‘I am feeling decidedly unwell,’ she added encouragingly.

For several more tense seconds she feared her pleas would be unheard as the men continued to glare coldly at each other, then she felt some of the tension ease from Nathaniel’s body as his fingers loosened slightly about her arm and he drew in a long controlling breath before addressing the other man contemptuously. ‘Just as I do not take seriously an insult from a man who attempts the seduction of a young and unprotected lady!’

Those pale blue eyes continued to meet the challenge of Nathaniel’s for several long seconds, leading Elizabeth to fear that the earl’s disdainful remark might have only added fuel to the fire.

Until Sir Rufus’s pale blue gaze shifted onto her, becoming softer, almost pleading. ‘I apologise, Elizabeth, if any of my actions just now…frightened you. I should not have allowed myself to be so overcome by your beauty that I forgot your innocence.’ He bowed deeply in apology.

It was an apology that did nothing to dispel the revulsion she now felt at the memory of those moist and demanding lips upon her own, of being held helpless in Sir Rufus’s hard embrace as he plundered her mouth with a thoroughness that made her feel ill just to think of it.

But those memories had no place in a situation that was still so edged with the potential danger of an illegal duel being fought over her. ‘Your apology is accepted, Sir Rufus,’ she said stiffly before turning away from him to once again look pleadingly up at Nathaniel. ‘May we please go now, my lord?’

Nathaniel was still fighting the inner need he felt to pummel the other man to within an inch of his life and enjoy every moment of doing so for daring to so much as touch Elizabeth, let alone kiss her!

Instead he looked across at the other man coldly as he repeated his earlier statement. ‘Your carriage and groom will be returned to you later today.’

Nathaniel kept a firm hold of Elizabeth’s arm as he strode back into the house, through the dark hallway and back outside into the fresh and invigorating spring air, drawing several deep breaths into his lungs before approaching the carriage standing ready on the driveway.