“Yes, you are correct.” She took the teapot he offered her, still baffled by his gentlemanly decorum.
“Then you have no knowledge as to what happens in one and you do not know if it is the past time of a gentleman or not.”
“There is enough talk on the streets to understand very well what happens in a gaming hall,” she scoffed, trying her best to look away from him and desist her admiration of his handsome features.
“Stories of only the worst gaming halls travel, My Lady. To judge my gaming hall in such a fashion is poor judgement. For instance, you would not wish me to judge you by the behavior of your brother.”
She shifted at the mention of Robert, suddenly feeling cold.
“I will still hold to my belief. You are no gentleman.”
“I am. Besides, I had aspirations to be a greater gentleman than what I am now.” He took the teapot back to pour his own cup.
“What aspirations were they?” Cleopatra could not help her curiosity.
“I desired to be a Member of Parliament, but it seems I have you to thank for that particular dream of mine being snatched away from me.” He tightened his jaw in anger.
It gave her a little pleasure and her smile spread wide. “If you intend to pull at my heartstrings with guilt, you should abandon your battle now, My Lord. I destroyed the reputation of a murderer. Any loss of your dreams matters not to me.”
The sudden thud of the teapot on the table made her snap her head up to look at him again.
“I am no murderer.” The force with the teapot had caused some of the tea to escape from the spout. He calmly mopped it up with his napkin. “What can I say to persuade you I am no killer?”
She observed how pristine his place setting was and the neat way in which he collected his cutlery. She realized he was a man who liked things to be tidy, to be in control.
Her presence had to be something quite maddening to that control.
“I know you to be a killer. I also know you are a liar so nothing you could say would persuade me otherwise.” She looked away from him again, setting her gaze on her teacup in her hand.
“I own a gambling hall. That sin is not equal to that of a murderer.”
“Those words could be lies.” She looked back up to him, replacing the cup to the saucer with defiance.
“Any word I say to you, you will believe it to be a lie?”
“Indeed. I will distrust anything you say.”
“Then should I be persuading you without words, My Lady?”
“What do you mean?” She raised her eyebrows, both shocked and intrigued by his meaning.
He leaned toward her across the table, stopping when he had his hand on the underside of her chair.
“What are you–”
He slid the chair closer to him, halting as her face reached his. They stared at each other, their breaths mingling and their lips inches apart.
“So, Miss Beckett. I see you watch me, just as I watch you.”
“I do not.”
“Why deny it at this point? Despite your protests, you returned my kiss yesterday.”
“I did not.” She thought her words were sharp, but they sounded much softer as her eyes darted between his.
She cursed herself as she felt her body responding to the proximity. She yearned to lean into him, to close the gap between their lips and taste one of his kisses again.
“Oh, you did. I have had enough kisses to know, My Lady, when the lady in question returns the interest.”
“There was no interest.”
“No interest? If you are not fond of the word, shall we call it passion, then?” He tilted his head to the side, teasing her with a provocatively near kiss.
Her eyes dropped to his lips, then back up to his stare, unable to answer.
“So, tell me. Do you really think you would be capable of being so drawn to your brother’s killer?” He moved toward her, as though he would connect their lips.
She wanted it.
She desperately wanted to kiss him, to feel that fire he had started the day before.
Yet he stopped just shy. His smirk grew knowingly as he watched where her gaze settled.
She pulled away, suddenly furious at her body’s behavior. “Just because I return a kiss does not mean I think you are an innocent man.”
“Very well, then you will have to think on that thought for a while longer. I have made my own conclusion on that matter. You can draw yours.” He sat straight again and moved to lift the cloches, revealing trays of beautiful food. “Now, we shall eat.”
Cleopatra rearranged the collar of her dress, trying to release some of the tension and the heat that their near touch had caused.
She reset her chair, bringing her seat back to her plate and further away from him.
“Did you send for my younger brother, John?” She attempted to turn her attention to the food on the trays.
As well as the freshly baked bread, there was plum cake, boiled eggs, morning cake full of spices, and brioche.
It was a fine meal, indeed. The like of which she had not had the chance to indulge in since Robert had died.
Had she been in anyone else’s company, she would have been only too happy to partake with eagerness. As it was, she was restraining herself as she served her portion.
The food they were eating, after all, had been funded by the gaming hall. The money that had purchased the array was from lost fortunes such as Robert’s and her own missing dowry.
“I have sent for him. John should be with you soon.” The Earl passed her a tray holding plum cake for her to help herself to a slice. “I am told he caused something of a commotion in my carriage.”
“He did?” Cleopatra felt pride in her chest.
Of course, John would not go without a tussle.
“It seems it is a family trait of yours,” the Earl smiled at her, reminding her of their own interlude in his carriage.
She blushed at the thought of being pressed beneath them. They had been so close in that carriage. She looked away from him, attempting to remove the sudden wandering thoughts about the Earl from her mind.
“It is to be expected when you place us in carriages that we are not willing to enter.”
“So, I can see,” he chuckled slightly, passing her the bowl of boiled eggs. “Now, would you like to know of my proposition? A way for you to pay recompense to me.”
“I owe you nothing.”
“You owe me everything.” His deep voice drew her gaze again. He appeared to be sincere, truly believing she had wronged him in a way that was unforgivable.
It sat uncomfortably within her.
She could not understand if the man were a murderer why he had not harmed her yet. Surely it would be the simplest route for a murderer to take rather than demand recompense at this moment.
Is he truly the murderer I think he is?
“You have cost me my future in its entirety.” He leaned forward on the table, resting on his elbows to drive forward his meaning.
Cleopatra could not look away from his gray-blue eyes, even with her mind screaming at her that it was the right thing to do.
“Because of your little newspaper article, my future as an MP is gone. Any chance I had at making a decent marriage has disappeared. With that, the possibility of an heir for the Earldom has also vanished. Tell me, Miss Beckett, can you now see the extent to which you have destroyed my life?”
She said nothing; she merely returned his stare, trying to ignore the small twinge of guilt that tugged at her stomach.
No. Do not feel guilty. This man took Robert from you.
“And so, I have thought of a perfect way for you to rescue me from the shatters of my reputation.”
“How is that?” She raised an eyebrow, curious as to the answer.
“It will restore my reputation a little, and it will solve the last two problems I have, even if now I can never be an MP.”
“What would I have to do?” Cleopatra struggled to remember
the other things that he had said had been destroyed.
She had just remembered what they were when he leaned back in his chair, suddenly relaxing and fixing her with a firm stare from those gray-blue eyes.
“You will marry me, Miss Beckett.”
Chapter Eight
Cleopatra could not believe her ears. After a moment of silence, just staring at those gray-blue eyes of the Earl, a deep laugh escaped her.
“You expect me to marry you? Never!” she continued to laugh as he shrugged.
“Do you have a choice, My Lady?”
“I beg your pardon?” Her laugh died on her lips.
“You are practically in my guardianship at this moment–”
“I am not!” Her anger tore through her stomach. She was stunned, completely dumbfounded that the Earl would make such a suggestion.
“You are alone in this world, Miss Beckett.” He appeared still relaxed in his seat, watching her rising panic closely. “Your older brother is dead; you have no money left to your name. No guardian in law at all. In fact, no male protectors or family of any kind.”
“This is absurd.” She threw the napkin from her lap back onto the table. “You cannot demand something like my hand in marriage in so easy a fashion!”
She was amazed the man had even considered this an option. A small twinge of excitement warmed her stomach – he was attracted to her enough to consider it a possibility.
“Can I not? It would solve my dilemma of no eligible woman to marry me. As I understand from my research, you are the daughter of the late Navy General Edwin Beckett, who himself was the Earl of Blythe’s second son.”
His words made the sudden excitement vanish – he looked at her as a matter of business only. He listed off her family relations as though they were credentials.
The mention of her father only opened the rip in her heart that had been torn by the grief of losing each member of her family.
“Your mother was also the daughter of a Viscount. I understand she passed ten years ago when little John was born.”
The mention of the death of her mother wrenched at her heart a little more.
“You have been doing your research.” Cleopatra shook her head, suddenly in despair. “You see me as an eligible match?”
“Well, you have no money left to your name, but you are eligible in terms of position. It is a good arrangement for us both. Our marriage would solve two of my problems and help to repair my image of a philanderer by announcing to the world that I am a married man. While we are on that subject, I have never met most of the women whose names you gave to The Gazette.”
“How is this a good arrangement, as you so call it, for me?” Cleopatra ignored his last statement; her mind was whirring far too much from the strange proposal.
“As I said,” he leaned forward again, closing the space between them. “You have no male protectors. This way, you have a husband, not to mention a fortune to furnish your life. A manor and education for John too. Are these not ideal things?”
“You talk of marriage as though it is a business proposal!” She jumped to her feet – the chair clattered back onto the floor.
“It is at this moment.”
“I will not do it. I refuse!”
“You refuse?” He ate a piece of plum cake, smiling at her as though she were merely entertainment. “May I remind you, Miss Beckett, that you are penniless at this time. You and your little brother are now both in my care. If I were so inclined, I could just decide not to release either of you if you refuse.”
“You would trap me so?”
“Would you be willing to risk it?”
“How dare you?!” She was tempted to throw the food from her plate at him, but she settled for picking up her napkin and throwing that instead; he caught it easily in the air as an idea occurred to her. “Besides, I cannot marry you. I am already betrothed to another. I have a suitor.”
He laughed suddenly as he neatly folded the napkin and replaced it next to her plate. “Miss Beckett, as we have just discussed, I have done my research. I understand that Mr. Charles Brockenhurst’s proposal to you disappeared at the same moment your dowry did. That was perhaps a good thing. The two of you are not well suited.”
“Well suited?”
“He is too plain a man to keep up with your spirit.”
“This cannot be happening.” She turned away from the table, stepping over the fallen chair and running her hands through her hair, trying to ignore his words.
I have spirit? Was that a compliment? Or an insult?
“Miss Beckett?” The Earl’s voice had lost all of its humor. It was suddenly calm, almost pleading. “Please come and have something to eat. It will do you some good.”
“I cannot eat now.” She walked away from the table; the prospect of being so trapped by the Earl made her panic. “I will go back to the room.”
“Miss Beckett?” He was on his feet.
As she attempted to move past him, he grabbed her arm and pivoted her back to him.
She felt her breath hitch, once again pressed flush to him.
“I cannot marry you!” She tried to pull away, but he held her firmly by the elbows. He did not hurt her; he just held her there, keeping her close to him. “I despise you!”
She tried to push him away, her hands were balled into fists against his chest, but he just let her strike him. It was without real effort; they were merely soft hits.
“And I you, but it is a feeling you will have plenty of time to grow used to.” His gray-blue eyes glared down at her.
At that moment, she understood the full extent of his hatred – it mirrored her own so completely.
She attempted to push away from him, agitated and keen to be free of his arms.
With his hands on her waist, she found herself pulled to him again, denying her freedom. Her eyes had been darting around in a fury, too much to realize what was happening before his lips found hers.
One of his hands reached for her hair, tilting her head back and pulling him up toward her.
I should be fighting this. How dare he do this?
Yet she did not. All the sudden panic she had felt she somehow poured into the kiss. It was passionate as she pulled at his waistcoat.
His kiss made her knees feel weak; she pressed her body against his chest, needing that touch. His fingers in her hair created tingles that shot up her spine.
It was over too quickly.
He ended the kiss, but they were both still just inches apart, breathing against each other. One of his hands continued to play with her hair, the other was on her waist. One of her hands found his cravat and was fiddling with the material.
For a minute, they just breathed together. Cleopatra closed her eyes and turned her head down away from him, dreading being so drawn to him again.
I am betraying Robert’s memory by allowing this man to kiss me so.
“I cannot marry you just to rescue your reputation,” she whispered eventually, though her hand remained tangled in his cravat.
“Well, you could marry me for this instead.” His words earned her gaze again. He had raised his eyebrows – there was no humor there, and no anger either. It was…Cleopatra struggled to think of the right word to describe it…
It is desire.
“You are drawn to me, Miss Beckett. You cannot deny it. And I am to you.”
He moved his lips to hers again, preparing for another kiss, but she turned away from him, refusing the kiss.
Her movement was the only refusal she needed to give.
“As you wish.” He softened his hold on her.
It made her yearn as she closed her eyes. She both wished him to hold her tighter and wished he would let her run away. She was overwhelmed with completely conflicting emotions.
She cursed her body’s reaction to him. The world was a cruel place to make the one man who had ever made her feel so alive the killer of her brother.
“At the very least, come and eat. After breakfast, yo
u can see your brother.”
She nodded. At the slight movement, he released her, though he kept a gentle hand on her back and steered her toward her seat. He lifted the chair from the floor and held it back for her to sit, just as before.
In Temptation and Damnation with the Earl: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 6