Eliza’s jaw clenched and she pulled away from him. She faced forward on the settee, her hands clasped in her lap.
He leaned toward her, steeled himself for her response. He prayed that even if she did not answer, she wouldn’t reject him again.
She opened her mouth, closed it, took in a rough breath, looked down at her hands, then toward the windows. The sunlight rimmed her profile and highlighted the downturned misery of her mouth. “I suppose that is a fair thing for you to request of me.” Her voice was small and tense, the words reluctant. Silence drew out between them.
“But it’s a hard thing.” He sat back. It wasn’t worth making her so miserable. “We can discuss it later, when you are more prepared.” He moved to stand.
“No.” She held out her hand to stop him. “It’s brought up and now it’s in the forefront of my mind. I’d rather get it over with.”
He sat back again, watched her as her mouth worked. She looked pale.
“We came to London for the Season to bring out my cousins, Henriette and Margaret. Mrs. Broughton was determined they would do all they could to find husbands for the girls.
“In the beginning, no one seemed to notice me, not like when I came out under my Grandfather Lyonston’s sponsorship with rumors of a large dowry. Now I was invisible. I played the pianoforte for dancing when the Broughtons entertained. I would accompany, but I would not exhibit. I was not an eligible miss, just a penniless spinster wearing dowdy, out-of-date clothes. Firmly on the shelf.
“Then, at a private card party, I was introduced to Lord Crewkerne, and he took notice of me, kept approaching me, engaging me in conversation. I know the company noticed. No one, not one person, told me he was already married.” She turned to him, pleading in her eyes for him to believe her.
He did.
“I still don’t know how that transpired, that no one thought to even mention it, when he was paying me such special attentions . . .” She looked away again, her lips downturned.
“He was an earl, and handsome, even though so much older than myself, and I began to hope. To see a way out of dependence, out from under my cousins, to be mistress of my own home, even . . .” She stopped her words, then continued. “The earl himself, he . . . ” Her mouth twisted. “I was not in love.” She waved a hand, as if dismissing the very thought. “I do not think I was ever even at ease in his presence. He is cynical, with an edge of mocking. Of cruelty. I felt it even then. But I was willing to overlook all of that, overlook most anything, for the hope his interest offered.” Her shoulders rounded forward. “That I thought he offered.”
She straightened and turned to Daniel, fire in her eyes. “He’s a nobleman, but I am a gentlewoman, a descendant of nobility. I never expected his interest could be less than honorable.” Her hands fisted.
She turned away again. “One night, two weeks into our acquaintance, at yet another card party, I found myself alone with him in a dimly lit room. I scarcely know how. He had led me there. I heard a noise, and when I turned toward it, he grabbed the back of my head, squeezed my hair.” She raised her hand, hovered it behind her head over her coiffure. “He turned me back toward him, and pushed his mouth onto mine.”
Daniel’s teeth clenched, and he held himself still.
She let her hand drop, twisted them together before her once again. “I’d never been kissed before. And with the thought that he might marry me—he, he seemed like he might marry me, you see—so I didn’t fight him, I just sat there.” Her words became rapid and scattered. As if she felt guilty. “And I was curious. I had never been kissed before. I’d wanted to know what it was like. I . . .” Her fingers twisted each other in a tangled, painful-looking knot. “At first it was . . . it was not unpleasant, I suppose. But then he held me more tightly. Our teeth clashed together, which felt awful. His hand in my hair hurt, and I didn’t . . .” She shuddered. “I didn’t like it.”
Daniel sat rigid, his hands fisted on his knees. He did not reach for her, didn’t touch her, didn’t succumb to the urge to hold her.
“And then I heard a gasp, an exclamation, and the light brightened in the room. We were being witnessed. I pulled away, looked over, and Mrs. Clayton and her daughter were gaping at us.”
She turned toward Daniel, her eyes wide and horrified. “‘A married man!’ they said. I had been kissing a married man! The shock and horror that ran through me at that moment.” She clutched her hands over her chest. “I looked over at Lord Crewkerne, and he had a sort of smile on his face, and all he said was, ‘Oh dear, how unfortunate.’”
Daniel’s sight darkened. His hands clenched, and pure resolution filled him. It had been the proper thing to do before, but now, more than justice demanded it—the Earl of Crewkerne would stand before Daniel’s pistol, and know his life was in Daniel’s hands. If Daniel had to run the man to ground, he would.
“I demanded to know if he was truly married,” she continued. “‘Of course,’ he said. Like I should have known. As everyone knew!” She spread her hands wide before her face. “I would never have been so welcoming to him if I had known!”
She stood, began to pace. Daniel rose and watched her.
“The ladies scoffed, didn’t believe me, asked what else had been happening in that room. I excused myself and left as quickly as I could. I was . . . I was shaking.”
She was shaking now, striding back and forth before the windows. “I shouldn’t have, I shouldn’t—”
Daniel couldn’t restrain himself further. He pulled her trembling body gently to him. She gripped his waistcoat and buried her face in his neckcloth. He wrapped his arms around her.
“Listen to me, my sweet love, listen. You are innocent of any wrongdoing. Do you hear me?” He pulled back and looked her in her wild, wet eyes and devastated face. “He manipulated you, he orchestrated everything. None of this is your doing.”
“But I—”
“Nothing. You did nothing wrong. Take no blame onto yourself, because you hold none.”
Her face crumpled, and she let out a small, vulnerable sound. Daniel cradled her to his chest and let her cry.
As he rocked his shaking, sobbing wife, he planned how justice would come to the Earl of Crewkerne.
Chapter 36
Three days later, Eliza walked over the hillside covered with an undulating patchwork of wildflowers and grasses, the wind picking up her loose hair.
The bluebells had spread past the woodlands and into the overgrown grounds. Bright primroses had sprung up, with violets, foxgloves, and wild garlic. The beautiful heads of the brightly colored flowers bobbed in the quickening wind.
She loved them.
Blue sky peeked through silver-edged thunder clouds, and the sun shone down in patches over the rolling landscape spread before her. She could see where rain came down in blurring gray streams, here, there, and miles away.
Sun shone through the rain, and she drew in a deep breath. A rainbow formed before her in the sky, an arc of color that slowly intensified, spreading over the green hills.
She lifted her arms and stretched into the wind. Her loose hair whipped around her, matching the wildness inside her. Daniel had unpinned her hair as they’d kissed deeply and passionately this morning, before he had shaken his head, said it was ‘too much’ and left. In the last few days, he had become the one who would walk away, leaving her aching. She didn’t want to stop . . . but she didn’t want to go further either. Going further scared her.
When she’d noticed the incoming storm, she’d gone out to meet it. She left her hair loose over her shoulders and hadn’t bothered to grab her spencer.
In that moment, she did not care that she looked like a wild woman, rushing loose and bare-headed into the wind. She didn’t care who might see.
She felt like the storm. Their cut-short kisses of the last few days left her with a constant energy zapping through her, like static electricity. A low, racing current of . . . something . . . zinging through her.
She felt keyed up, t
aut like an over-wound clock. Flushed and overheated, having to take longer and longer walks, or pound longer on the harpsichord.
Water hit her face in spattered droplets, the rain-laced wind cooling the blood that had risen in her cheeks.
The clouds parted above her, and the sun shone through, a warm ray hitting her face. It streamed through the thick thunderclouds that moved above.
Her breath caught with the bright glory of it. Sunshine through rain.
She couldn’t see the rainbow anymore. Perhaps it was right above her.
She lifted her face and enjoyed the vibrant contrast of warm sun and cool rain on her skin. The wind lifted her hair. She basked in the elements as she stood steady with solid earth beneath her.
If she allowed the storm to break—if she let Daniel in, fully and completely—would she find a calm after the storm? The peacefulness of the sun shining the next morning?
Daniel was warm sun—all bright energy with warm affection. When they were together, his happiness smiled down on her. She could feel herself warming, growing, opening, blossoming under his attention.
Daniel himself emerged from the trees below her. He walked through the wildflowers, calmer than when he’d left her, but tension was still visible in the set of his shoulders.
His broad, broad shoulders. His strong legs. She watched him, taking in his every feature. He was so handsome. And kind. Tall and strong. But gentle and caring. He had proven himself so patient with her.
He didn’t look in her direction, didn’t notice her watching him, instead looking down the hill to the view beyond them of the storm clouds.
“Daniel.” She called out to him over the wind, startling herself. His name had escaped her lips without forethought. He looked up to her on the hill above him and gave her a cautious half-smile. The tentativeness in that smile caused her heart to clench in her chest.
Daniel walked up the hillside thick with flowers, coming toward her. The sunlight streamed through the gaps in the heavy clouds overhead, and fell on him, outlining his form with a golden glow.
Her breath caught and her heart started to pound. Could she trust him with her all, with everything?
He drew near, his eyes intent on her, a soft smile on his lips.
Her breath quickened. She knew she could. Her husband was trustworthy. The best of men.
Why had she been resisting?
Her blood heated and stirred inside her, rushing through her hot and thrumming. She could be steady and be moved.
She blinked back rain as it fell on her bare head, as it ran down her face and into her eyes. She didn’t want to lose sight of him.
Sunlight and rain coexisted in this hushed moment. Love and desire.
“Eliza?”
“Daniel.” Her arms lifted, and her feet took a step toward him. He came to her, answered her wordless plea by enfolding her in his arms.
Her wet hair clung to her face. His hands buried themselves in her loose hair. He pressed his forehead to hers, a touch so intimate. “Eliza, I . . .”
“Kiss me, please.”
He shook his head. “We just went over this. You know how it ends.”
“Please.”
He blew out a breath, his eyes closed. When they opened, their cloudy blue depths mirrored the storm clouds above. His mouth twisted. “I can deny you nothing.”
He bent, tilted his head, and kissed her long and tender, his mouth moving over hers. Her heart beat, warmed, burned.
They weren’t close enough. She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on with desperation. She wanted connection, to be a part of him. He was already a part of her. She wished for more, yearned for it.
He picked her up, his strong arms lifting her closer. The rain came down on them, unheeded, no hindrance to the warm coals of kindled fire that began to rage between them.
“Eliza . . . I can’t . . .”
“Keep going, Daniel,” she whispered it into his neck.
He drew back, checking her face, his eyes catching hers. She willed him to see the sincerity in her face, the earnest longing she felt, to understand what she was saying.
“Keep going.” She forced her words into firmness, kept eye-contact. She was determined.
The fires in his eyes she’d seen so often forcibly banked and controlled this week flared.
“Eliza.” His voice was a growl of need restrained. It stole her breath. And he kissed her again, his mouth open and devouring. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.” A spike of alarm jumped her heart. “Quick. Before I change my mind.”
His eyes lit, a smile of elated anticipation spread over his face. He stooped and swept his arm under her legs, his other beneath her back. She let out a surprised whoop of laughter at the sudden, weightless movement. He held her tight to his chest and ran up the hill. She circled her arms around his neck and shoulders and held on.
Rain broke over them fully as he ran over the grounds, cold water hitting her face. Her hair kept slashing at her in the wind. She tipped her head back and opened her mouth to the rain. She could not help but laugh at the outrageousness of it all.
He entered the house and thundered up the stairs. Her face flamed at what the servants might think if they saw them. But then they were in her room, and he was setting her down, standing before her, holding her hands, his breathing heavy and rapid.
She pulled one hand away from him to push her damp hair from her face. They were rain-spattered, and her soaked skirts clung to her.
He searched her face with an earnest expression.
Her heart throbbed in her chest, her stomach clenched with nerves. She took a breath in, strengthened her resolve, and turned. She lifted her hair out of the way of the back buttons on her gown.
“Assist me with my dress, please?”
* * *
Eliza hummed, languidly plucking the notes of “Fur Elise” on the harpsichord, her eyes half-closed.
She had had four days and three nights of being with Daniel, of truly knowing him and being one with him. She was growing to trust him further than she’d ever imagined trusting another as she grew used to the strangeness and the new sensations.
His every touch left her feeling loved and cherished. She had never felt such vitality or contentment. Every part of her hummed in joyful answer to him.
She’d also discovered that he was a tease—so much so that she found herself becoming the pursuer. He would tease and cajole until she would attack.
“You drive me to distraction! Why do you tease, then retreat?” she had said.
“I never want to presume, my darling,” he had answered with a wicked grin.
She let out a growl. “Stop teasing.”
He ran his hand lightly over the bare skin of her arm, and she gave a sound of frustration.
She grabbed his hand, and set it solidly against her waist, a fierceness rising in her. She stood on her toes, pulled his head down, and kissed him.
She smiled at the memory.
“Eliza?”
“Yes, Daniel?” She looked up from the keyboard as he walked into the room. She admired the fine form of her husband, a warm glow suffusing her at his presence.
She sat up straighter as she noticed an excited nervousness in his features. She lifted a brow.
“I’ve had a letter from my brother.”
Chapter 37
“I don’t understand.” Eliza stared down at the letter from the marquess, her body stiff with alarm. “He’s suing the Broughtons?”
“On our behalf in the Court of Chancery, yes. For your dowry.”
“But I don’t have a dowry.”
“That’s the thing. You do.”
She stood. “How do I? My marriage portion is gone. My cousins explained it to me. There is no money for it. My father died heavily in debt, Mr. Broughton inherited those debts with the estate. My marriage portion was swallowed by it. How did this even come into question?”
“Frederick has been looking into the legalities surroundi
ng your dowry for me. He located the entailment articles for Arne Park, and it is detailed there. You are owed twelve thousand pounds on your marriage.”
That had been what her parents had told her her dowry had been. “You asked him to do this?”
“Yes, as I knew the reports of your dowry on your come-out. That it was just gone is suspicious and unusual.”
“But—”
He didn’t wait for her objection. “Frederick’s solicitor presented this information to Mr. Broughton’s solicitor, with our marriage license, and requested the funds be paid. As we feared, the Broughtons have been less than forthcoming with your portion. So it must be sued for.” He gave her a steady, unflinching gaze.
Why was he so calm? She felt hot. Flushed. Shaky emotion ran through her. “If this was written into those documents, are you saying my cousins lied to me about my having no dowry?”
He answered with caution in his voice. “If the Broughtons truly thought that you did not have a right to the monies settled on each generation by the original entailment articles of Arne Park, then they were grossly misled by their solicitors. Frederick says the articles are clear.”
She straightened. “You believe they lied to me.”
“I find that a more likely scenario.”
She shook her head and paced away from him. “And the marquess wants us to return to London?” She faced the window, unable to look at him, her insides trembling.
“For the legal proceedings, yes. It’s best if we are there, in case the court requires witness testimony that you are the legitimate daughter of Alexander Moore, former life-tenant of Arne Park, and are legally married. Twelve thousand pounds will be a great boon. If we live modestly, we could live on the interest alone.”
“They don’t have twelve thousand pounds to pay.”
“It’s your legal due.”
“But if there is no money . . . !”
“They are to go into debt for it.”
“More debt. The estate can’t support these amounts!”
“If well managed, the estate brings in six thousand a year, Eliza. They can afford it. These aren’t unusual sums. They’re reasonable amounts for an estate that size.”
Beneath Spring's Rain (Ashton Brides Book 1) Page 22