Captivating the Cynical Earl

by Catherine Tinley

  ‘Nothing I do lacks purpose.’ His eyes pinned hers. ‘Even when I err, I do so with resolve.’

  Now it was her turn to react with startlement. Was he acknowledging his error that night on Lady Jersey’s terrace? She sent him a questioning look, and he responded with the slightest of nods. Clearly aware that his expressions were out of sight of the footmen, he grimaced, then shrugged ruefully.

  ‘I note, Lady Cecily, that you and my brother’s wife are close friends.’

  ‘We are.’ Her throat was so tight she could barely force the words out.

  What will he have to say about the matter?

  ‘Such friendships are of great significance among ladies, are they not?’

  ‘Indeed. Even after marriage, it would be important to maintain previous ties, do you not think?’ She swallowed, hoping he had changed his mind about her.

  ‘Ideally, yes, but marriage may change things.’ His gaze became unfocused, as though he was no longer thinking of her and Nell. ‘Other ties may become strained, even when intentions are good.’

  Was he speaking of himself and Tom? ‘If everyone involved thinks it important to maintain those ties,’ she offered softly, ‘then I believe they can be maintained. Strengthened, even.’

  His expression changed, became shuttered. ‘Not always. Sometimes cracks are so severe they cannot be repaired.’

  ‘And yet it is important to try, and to keep trying.’ She eyed him levelly, unsure of the ripples around them, yet believing instinctively that their conversation had significance. ‘There is my friendship with Nell, for example. Some might think that when a woman marries, she must leave her friends and focus only on her husband’s family. That Nell should put behind her the entirety of her life as Miss Godwin and become only Mrs Beresford.’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘Sounds like foolishness to me. Why should a married person give up who they were, simply because they are now married? Surely a woman—or a man—maintains a responsibility to those who depended upon them before the marriage?’

  Astonishment made her jaw drop. ‘I agree entirely, my lord.’

  ‘Good.’ He applied himself to his breakfast, as though the matter were settled.

  ‘Then...you do not mind my continuing friendship with your sister-in-law?’

  ‘No, why should I? It is none of my concern.’ He eyed her closely, and her heart skipped a beat. ‘Lady Cecily, at times I speak bluntly, and without thinking. It is a fault of mine—though one that I thought myself to have mastered. I—’

  ‘Hush now, my lord.’ She did not need to hear the apology he was clearly about to make. Whatever had caused him to speak so angrily to her that night, she was well past ready to let go of the matter, particularly since she now knew that he did not, in fact, disapprove of her as Nell’s friend. ‘I, too behave in ways I should not.’ She dimpled at him, and he blinked. ‘Particularly when provoked.’

  He was outrageous that night, and I was rude.

  Remembering that she had accused him of vulgarity, she flinched inwardly.

  He smiled at her, and her heart sang. She had to admire such plain speech, and to match it with her own. It was unusual, and frankly refreshing, to enjoy such a conversation.

  He is the best of brothers... Tom’s words came back to her.

  Reflecting on her own part in their first encounter, she frowned. ‘Unlike you, when I...er... Afterwards I doubt myself, berate myself for acting unthinkingly.’ Her tone was low.

  Why did I admit such a thing?

  ‘Some advice, Lady Cecily, if you will permit?’

  She nodded, a little disconcerted by how rapidly their discourse had progressed from hilltop fog to this. Her heart fluttered again as his eyes met hers directly.

  ‘Never doubt yourself. If you fail, embrace it fully. Learn from it, of course, make amends when needed, but primarily understand your true purpose and how your errors may, on the long road, still take you there.’

  This was too much for the breakfast table.

  My true purpose? Do I even have a purpose?

  Her brow creased as she considered his words, as old uncertainties rose again within her.

  What am I to do? Marry for security, for children, for company?

  ‘For gentlemen,’ she offered slowly, ‘it is easier to discern a purpose. We ladies are told that becoming a mother should be the pinnacle of our life’s achievement.’

  He tilted his head to the side, considering this. ‘I had not given the matter much thought. Are women not then content to bear and raise children?’

  ‘Well, of course we are—many of us, anyway. But that cannot be our only design. Many women have other talents and skills—in running a household, or painting, or music. Others follow academic pursuits. But we are constantly told it is not seemly to involve ourselves in matters more commonly pursued by men. Matters of business, for example.’

  His eyebrows were both raised. ‘You have an interest in matters of business?’

  ‘I do. Does that surprise you, my lord?’

  ‘Surprise me? I am astounded. Though perhaps, given what I know about you, I should not be surprised at all.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Lord Kingswood is your guardian, I understand?’

  ‘He is, and a better guardian I could not have hoped for.’

  He nodded thoughtfully. ‘There are few men I would trust for guidance, but he is one of them.’

  She beamed at this praise for her darling Ash. ‘His wife, Lady Kingswood, is also a highly competent businessperson.’

  ‘I had not known this.’ His brow furrowed. ‘How did she learn to be so?’

  Cecily snorted. ‘In the same way that you have, I imagine.’

  He shook his head. ‘It cannot be so. Most business dealings among the ton take place away from the eyes of ladies. Agreements are made in clubs and in personal libraries. Conversations often take place at Tattersall’s, at the racing, and in the fencing clubs. Even—forgive me—at boxing fights.’

  ‘Oh, I understand that. But those dealings are often supported by many hours of laborious study, are they not? Details of financing, of legal matters, of timing and cash and revenues?’ She was quite enjoying his surprised expression. ‘In addition,’ she continued gleefully, ‘do business dealings not also take place at...’ she gestured vaguely ‘...country houses?’

  He grinned, shaking his head with what looked like bemusement. Her heart skipped to see how the smile transformed his face. He was quite astonishingly good-looking. She blinked.

  ‘You have me there, Lady Cecily. So Lady Kingswood assists her husband in making business decisions?’

  ‘From what I have observed, they decide equally, although it is he who then holds the conversations. But they will always have worked out beforehand the various possibilities, and how they will respond to each.’

  ‘My brother and I do the same.’ He frowned. ‘That is, normally we do.’

  There was a silence, where the unspoken knowledge of the present rift between the brothers lay heavy in the air. His eyes dropped to his plate, and he busied himself cutting a slice of beef with what seemed to Cecily to be unusual care. A pang went through her, as she remembered his earlier comment about ties being strained.

  It pains him that they are at odds over this.

  ‘Well, I for one am looking forward to walking in Crow Wood today,’ she affirmed brightly.

  He gave a twisted smile, acknowledging her clumsy attempt to paint over any awkwardness. ‘Lady Cecily,’ he declared, ‘I must admit for your ears only...’ he leaned towards her conspiratorially ‘...that I do have some proposals planned for Mr Harting while he is here.’

  This was better. Normality was restored. ‘Ha! And so when we are wandering through the woods today, perhaps we shall not, in fact, be “purposeless”—not from your perspective, at least.’

  His eyes were smil
ing. It was doing bewildering things to her insides. ‘You have me there, Lady Cecily.’

  Is Lord Hawkenden flirting with me?

  She must have imagined it, for in the next instant his expression had settled back into its usual handsome remoteness. He sipped from his china cup and she tried not to watch. ‘And Mr Carmichael? Is he here simply to make up the numbers?’ She was genuinely interested, finding the entire conversation enthralling. Much more than she should, perhaps.

  ‘Actually, Carmichael has indicated he has a proposal for me to consider. A new investment.’

  Her eyes lit up with excitement. ‘Oh, I love it when Lord and Lady Kingswood are considering a new investment, and they share the details with me! We spend hours poring over the numbers, and trying to consider the possibilities from all angles.’

  ‘Indeed?’ He looked as if he might say more, but at that moment the door opened again, admitting Mr Harting. He was clearly in good spirits, and his smile broadened when his eyes lit on Lady Cecily.

  ‘Good day, Hawk. Lady Cecily.’ He bowed.

  The Earl, who had risen to greet his guest, took his seat again. ‘Was your chamber adequate, Harting?’

  ‘It was, and the staff excellent. I must admit to being impressed by Hazledene, Hawk. I wonder you do not spend more time here. Thank you,’ he added as an aside to the footman who was serving him.

  A shadow crossed the Earl’s face, so fleetingly that Cecily wondered if she had imagined it. Why did he not spend more time at Hazledene? Oh, how irritating it was not to have had more time to continue their conversation.

  ‘It is a tidy house, in a pretty setting, but too small for a full house party.’

  ‘There I must disagree with you, my lord. Four gentlemen and two ladies is plenty for an intimate gathering. I declare I am delighted with the company!’ He was looking at Cecily when he spoke, and she felt herself blush. She never knew how to behave when gentlemen openly admired her. Last night’s bravado had vanished, and she was left with her normal cool reserve. ‘I see we have a dry day,’ Mr Harting continued, ‘so we can persist with our plans for a pleasant walk in pleasant company.’

  The Earl was leaning back in his chair. ‘Pleasant as you like, Harting,’ he murmured, yet it seemed to Cecily that his expression had a cynical twist.

  Mr Harting seemed not to notice, tucking into bacon, eggs and beef with alacrity. ‘Has Carmichael surfaced yet? I declare he cannot be keeping Town hours when we are in this bucolic idyll.’

  ‘I have not seen him yet, but he can lie as late as he wishes. We shall not stand on ceremony here.’

  They stilled at the sound of conversation in the hallway, then the door opened, admitting not only Carmichael but Tom and Nell.

  ‘Good morning, good morning, all!’ declared Mr Carmichael, his round face glowing with delight. ‘What a pleasure it is to be in such company, and in such a setting!’

  They all exchanged greetings, the Earl and Harting retaking their seats and the others joining them at table.

  ‘Carmichael,’ declared the Earl with a hint of sourness,’ I had forgot how jovial you are in the mornings.’

  Carmichael, still grinning, hit him in the arm with a friendly punch, seemingly taking this as a compliment. The Earl, unflinching, went back to his food. Tom, serving his wife with eggs, toast and honey, at her murmured request, remarked, ‘My brother is never jovial in the early morning, Carmichael.’

  Carmichael nodded sadly. ‘We cannot all be blessed with a cheerful disposition. Er, tea, please,’ he added, to the footman at his elbow. ‘And more of the ham.’ He had already loaded his plate with a selection of everything within reach, including the last slice of ham. ‘So, what are we to do today?’

  Here we go again.

  Social conversation was so empty, Cecily noted. The same greetings and pleasantries, endless conversations about the planned walk in Crow Wood, and whether the weather would be kind. Looking within, she had to admit to ongoing frustration that a promising conversation with Lord Hawkenden had been interrupted. He was altogether much more interesting than she had anticipated. This was surprising, but also strangely exciting. And now that she knew he no longer disapproved of her, why, anything might occur!

  * * *

  Jack’s mood was uncertain. At some point during the long night his brain had seemingly finally accepted that Lady Cecily was not Mrs Tom Beresford, and that his error in confusing the two ladies was at the heart of his frustration with her. From now on he would treat her as though she were any other lady. It should not be difficult.

  On seeing her this morning he had been almost surprised to note he felt no conflicting feelings at all. Instead, there was a simple sense of pleasure on entering the breakfast room and finding her there. She was undoubtedly a beautiful lady, and her quick mind intrigued him. He was now free to admire such beauty, uncomplicated by his concerns about Tom’s hasty marriage, which must be considered separately.

  Today Lady Cecily was wearing a gown of sunshine yellow—the modistes probably dubbed it jonquil or butter-gold or some such nonsense—but he had to own it suited her. The daylight filtering through the mullioned windows sent a golden glow over her fair curls and delicate skin. She looked fragile, and slight, and he idly tried to imagine how small her chin might feel in his hand, how large his hand would be if it rested on her fine shoulder. Such thoughts would lead nowhere, he knew, for he did not dally with Almack’s maidens.

  His comments acknowledging he had erred that night had not been considered beforehand. In the secret workings of his own soul, he now understood that if she had behaved rather rudely in walking away from him, she had had good reason, for his behaviour towards her had been nothing short of egregious. As he recalled his blunt comments towards a young lady he did not even know, he had the grace to feel rather ashamed of himself.

  Ten minutes later, he had been surprised again—this time by the content of their conversation. A lady interested in business? The knowledge that Lord Kingswood involved both his wife and his ward in matters of commerce? The notion was entirely novel, yet now, as he let the conversation among the others wash over him, he discovered that he found it credible. In his business dealings he had frequently encountered quick-minded women among the traders and managers in commerce. Why, then, should he be surprised that similar intelligence existed among women of his own class?

  Because they are not raised to it, he realised.

  From an early age, young ladies, from what he understood, were trained in manners, and deportment, and the arts, but not in business or commerce. The closest they perhaps came to it was the skills involved in running a household.

  This led him to another notion. He had, naturally, secured excellent housekeepers for his larger properties, yet one of the reasons he was looking forward to having a wife was so that she could take from him the burden of managing Springfield Hall, with its army of indoor servants, and constant harassment regarding supplies, staff management, and chimney-cleaning. He already knew he would bring the same dispassionate coolness to his selection of a wife that he normally applied to matters of business. When he eventually chose a wife, the lady he selected would naturally need to meet his many requirements.

  He glanced up to eye Lady Cecily speculatively. Beautiful, quick-witted, accomplished, herself daughter to an earl...might she be a candidate worth considering? Instantly, a strange kick hit him in the gut, powerful and disturbing.

  Fear? Desire? Both?

  He could not accurately discern it. But the fact that he had had such a strong reaction told him one thing. She could not be included in his list of potential alliances.

  When he married, it would be a selection based entirely on rationality. Whatever his gut was saying, it was speaking much, much too loudly, and he was not having it.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Crow Wood was a gentle stroll from the house, on the far side of Hazl
edene village. ‘Village’ was perhaps too grand a name for the place, Cecily mused as they ambled through. In reality it was more of a hamlet. It consisted of a single street, with a medieval church, a row of pretty stone cottages, a few shops, and a handful of larger houses. There was a single crossroads in the centre, with the back roads to other hamlets crossing the main Portsmouth road. A narrow lane dotted with small cottages snaked upwards towards the famed Thursley Hill, the one they could not visit today. Cecily glanced towards it. Sure enough, the top was swathed in solid cloud, completely obscuring the summit. It was just one of a range of green hills in the surrounding countryside, most rich with the woodland typical of the western Weald.

  The Earl, flanked by his two friends, was leading the way, with Cecily, Nell and Tom following. Cecily could not help but run her eye over the three figures of the gentlemen in front of her. Mr Harting, slim and tall—almost willowy, Mr Carmichael, shorter and rather portly, and in the centre the Earl himself. As tall as Harting, as solid as Carmichael, but of the three his figure was the most pleasing—broad, muscular, strong...

  If I were to ever choose a man, she thought idly, I should like one with a well-built figure such as this.

  She flushed at her own daring, understanding that her mama’s sometimes shocking comments had made her more knowing about certain things than she should be. Glancing sideways at her friend, she was concerned in case Nell had noticed Cecily’s hungry appraisal of the Earl’s broad shoulders, encased in his well-fitted burgundy-coloured coat. Nell, thankfully, was not looking in her direction, her attention seemingly focused on her husband. Naturally.

  At the very end of the village, where the track bent left, a stile on the right took them directly towards the woods. Tom handed both Nell and Cecily over the stile, then climbed across himself.