by Lucy Langton
“I’ll read it at my leisure,” he repeated in a measured tone.
“Very well,” Hugh conceded, placing the rest of the pages and letters onto the desk and made a hasty departure.
The earl watched his head man as he left. Something did seem peculiar about Hugh’s behaviour, but he couldn’t immediately trust Miss Stewart’s warnings. To do so would be to betray his better judgement.
He picked up the letter and marvelled at Lady Spencer’s careful hand. Her penmanship was capital, and he could pick out her writing from a stack of other pages without faltering. The earl had memorised her writing.
What the earl found within the letter did not surprise him in the least. It was an invitation to dinner at her estate. He had received them often in the past, but there was something mildly suspect about the notion that she had sent an invitation so quickly after their most recent encounter:
I do hope that yourself and Deirdre might enjoy supper with me two nights from today. I have a new chef that I’m sure will delight you, and I long to show you the changes that have been made to the estate since you’ve last been here.
The earl placed the invitation back down upon the desk and looked towards the fire, which was crackling and warm. He considered the fact that he never liked taking Deirdre out of the house, even though he knew it was good for her. He recalled how much convincing Miss Stewart had to do in order to take Deirdre to the Hutchinson ball. In the end, even though he hated the event, he was pleased with how Deirdre performed in the situation, and he considered that a stately dinner with Lady Spencer might be a valuable experience for her as well.
And yet, Miss Stewart was not invited.
Of course, she wasn’t. Miss Stewart was Deirdre’s governess after all, and so there was no question of her ever being invited. But he longed to have her attend, just as fervently as he desired to have her by his side at the ball.
However, at the Hutchinson ball, she was not at his side. She flitted about and did as she pleased, which pained the earl to no end. Finally, he had to forcefully bring her into his company, and what ensued after that was a kiss that the earl could not soon forget. In fact, he thought of it nightly, and it filled him with a yearning he had never quite known in his life.
Was there a way around it? He could try to convince Lady Spencer to allow Miss Stewart to attend as well, but to do so might excite suspicion, something the earl was not yet prepared for.
“M’Lord,” he heard Hugh’s voice say again.
“Yes?” he replied, noting how eager Hugh was that afternoon.
“What is your decision?” Hugh asked, clasping his hands behind his back.
The earl’s heart turned cold. So, Hugh did know the contents of the letter, did he not? Did that not corroborate Miss Stewart’s suspicions? Did that not make Hugh guilty in the very way that Miss Stewart tried to express? The earl would remain cool and measured in all things, for there was no time to jump to conclusions.
“What is my decision about what?” he asked, testing his head servant.
“In regard to the invitation,” Hugh said, and then rapidly changed his tone. “I walked Lady Spencer out to her coach the other morning, and it was then that she expressed to me that she should like to send an invitation for supper. She was most keen on it, and she wanted to ensure that your schedule was clear that evening. That’s the only reason that I know about the nature of the letter.”
It was a rather good explanation, and the earl felt his doubt and mistrust melting away. For surely Lady Spencer, knowing Hugh well, would find it natural to enquire about the earl’s schedule, and he no longer felt the need for suspicion.
“I think that it’s best for Deirdre if we attend,” the earl replied, tossing the letter to the other corner of his desk. “Someone of considerable breeding, such as Lady Spencer, would be a good influence upon her.”
“Indeed. She can’t learn about society from a governess,” Hugh said dismissively.
The statement heated the earl’s ire yet again. What did Hugh have against Miss Stewart? A wave of protectiveness and anger washed over him.
“Miss Stewart was not invited, and it displeases me,” the earl said, his tone cold and commanding.
“It would not make sense for her to attend,” Hugh replied.
“It makes perfect sense. The girl is Deirdre’s teacher and her chaperone.”
“M’Lord, inviting her to the Hutchinson ball was quite enough, don’t you think?”
“Hugh, I don’t wish to hear your opinion any further. Enquire after whether or not Miss Stewart might attend the meal as well. And before you do so, summon Miss Stewart before me this very moment, as I have some words for her.”
“But she is in studies with Deirdre –”
“I did not ask you what she was engaged in. Rather, I told you to summon her, did I not?” the earl said.
“Yes, M’Lord,” Hugh replied with a bow of the head, and hastily exited the room.
During the moments in which the earl waited for Miss Stewart to arrive, he was remarkably impatient. What the devil was taking so long? He couldn’t sit still any longer, and so he paced about the room, hoping that some motion would quell his malady.
Finally, Miss Stewart appeared in the doorway, looking as beautiful as ever. He inspected her gown, ensuring it was up to his expectation. Her face was calm and radiant, and it vexed the earl to no end.
“Sit,” he commanded coldly.
“Yes, M’Lord,” Emilia said with a bow of the head, walking slowly towards the chair that sat in front of the desk.
“How are the lessons going today?” he asked, his coldness not letting up.
“We are making strides. I feel like Lady Deirdre is enjoying her reading more and more,” Emilia replied.
“That is important,” the earl said dismissively. “Do you feel penitent for the conspiracy that you laid out before me?” the earl asked, not backing down.
“M’Lord, I assure you that I only want the best for you.”
“I cannot help but think you have too wild an imagination. Perhaps it’s not good for Deirdre to see,” the earl said.
“Perhaps I said too much,” Emilia conceded.
“I fear that you may have,” the earl said, ceasing his pacing and seating himself behind the desk.
“Will you accept my apologies?”
“I’m not of the mind to accept your apologies, no.”
*
Yes, he was furious with her. His coldness chilled Emilia to the bone. Was he not the man she thought he was? The passionate, protective, dedicated man she knew him to be was perhaps merely a facade. What if what lay beneath all that was a cold, calculating man who only took his own best interested to heart?
Emilia was convinced that this was the end of everything. She had done the wrong thing and it was time to pay the price for it. Perhaps that gravitational pull between the two of them was a mere illusion, and all of it would come crashing down at her feet that very afternoon. Emilia decided to accept her fate. She had done the best that she could, after all. She had told the truth that was in her heart and no more. If the earl wished to dismiss her claims, then she could leave Glastonbrook with a clear conscience and find another way of life.
Oh, but how much she would miss him, and long for him, for days, weeks, years to come. Emilia was quite convinced that she could never remove Lord Forest from her thoughts and that her yearning for him would never subside, no matter where she was banished after knowing him for a brief time.
Aside from his coldness, there was another source of confusion that Emilia could not shake. For so long, and even in conversation with her, the earl had expressed the desperate need to solve the mystery of his parents’ death. Emilia knew not why, but she felt that the letter Lady Spencer had sent to Hugh was a clue. How was it that, all of a sudden, the earl showed so little interest in something that was of the utmost importance? Were his motives different from what she previously thought them to be? Was he lying about his desire t
o solve the mystery, or was there perhaps something deeper and darker to the story that the earl did not wish to penetrate?
“I have been invited to dine at the home of Lady Spencer,” the earl said casually, clasping his hands upon the desk.
“And will you go?” Emilia asked, horror filling her.
“Of course, I will go. I have known Lady Spencer for some time, and I think that the interaction will be good for Deirdre. She can’t spend all her time with a governess,” the earl replied haughtily.
Everything within Emilia was quaking. Not only was he cold towards her but also insulting. She was in deep water and felt as though she might drown.
“Then I think that you should go,” Emilia said, not wishing to undermine his decision.
“Does it matter what you think or do not think?” the earl asked, leaning into the desk.
*
He had gone too far. It was as plain as day. He could see the pained expression upon Emilia’s face, and for his own part he did not know from whence all that fury came. In his mind, it must have been from frustration. Frustration stemming from the need to hold her, to have her near. But he could not explain any of that nor would he want to. If Emilia was to live under his roof, and by his command, then she must be subjected to his fury when it arose.
“I suppose it does not, M’Lord,” Emilia replied, clearly on the verge of tears.
“You’ll do best to keep your thoughts to yourself, aside from when I ask for them. Am I making myself clear?”
“Yes, M’Lord,” Emilia replied, looking down.
She was not the only one who was heartbroken. The Earl of Cunningham was heartbroken in kind. When fury and frustration raged within him, he felt little control. It was a challenge he had endured his entire life, and he never knew how to control it. He was unleashing it onto Emilia, that much was clear, and he wished to put a stop to it. To will his baser self behave in a manner that was more fitting.
“I’m glad the lessons are going well,” the earl said, abruptly changing the subject and getting up from his chair again, looking towards the window. He leaned upon the frame and stared out at the countryside, willing himself to breathe. “The storms are returning.”
“Is that so?” Emilia asked, her voice trembling.
“Indeed. We had a few good days, but we’ll be met with dark clouds again.”
*
Was there a double meaning to his words? Yes, they had enjoyed a number of beautiful days at Glastonbrook, but with the events of that morning, Emilia’s own actions were bringing in the raging storms again.
“Deirdre will be displeased. She loves the lessons in the garden so,” she said, feeling the tears well up again.
The earl, not one to be impervious to female emotion, had heard the tremor in Emilia’s voice and walked towards her, handing her a handkerchief from his pocket. Emilia looked up at him and took it from his hand. However, the earl did not look down.
“There’s too much distraction in the garden,” he said, abruptly walking away.
“I believe that fresh air is good for the mind,” Emilia went on, bringing the fabric up to her eyes to wipe away the tears that had collected.
“Then perhaps you need more fresh air.”
*
How was it that her earlier words vexed him so? Which buttons was Emilia pressing? What strings within him was she tugging upon? It seemed like every conceivable button and string she had a hold of, in some way.
“That’s enough for today, you may go.”
“Yes, M’Lord,” Emilia replied.
“Tell Deirdre of the supper with Lady Spencer, and how she is to comport herself.”
“Yes, M’Lord,” Emilia repeated. She got up from her seat, bowed, and made a hasty exit.
Miss Stewart, might I tell you how beautiful you look today?
Of course, the Earl of Cunningham could never say that. His station in life would not allow it.
Chapter 18
The house was utterly silent, save for the sound of the pounding storm outside Emilia’s window. She was clutching the letter in her hand, still contemplating what it might mean, and how it was that the earl had utterly ignored it when she presented it to him. Was he so impervious to her pleas for him to read it? Wasn’t her bringing it to his attention in his best interests?
The reason Emilia had so much time to contemplate this was because the earl and his sister were out at Lady Spencer’s that evening for supper. When they had left, the rain was falling down hard, as it was doing in that very moment, and Emilia had gone to the window in order to watch Lord Forest and Deirdre as they raced to the carriage, the sister shielding herself from the rain and the earl seemingly not noticing the pummelling of water, as he was wont.
Above her room, Emilia could hear Hugh pacing back and forth. Wasn’t that just another indication that he was guilty of something? He had been restless ever since the earl had left for dinner, whilst Winnifred seemed to spend most of her time in the kitchen cleaning. It had been a rather long day, with the earl mostly spending his time in quiet contemplation, but every time he passed Emilia, his gaze was grave and cold. How was it that he made it so impossible to read what he was thinking and feeling? Emilia had never experienced anything like it in her life.
Lying on her bed and looking up at the ceiling, listening to Hugh’s steps, Emilia felt a deep longing come over her, akin to pain. At times it seemed like the earl invaded her whole body. He infiltrated her thoughts and the memory of his touch would bring a sudden wash of heat over her that she could not describe to anyone, nor would it be proper to do so. She was alone in her desire. On the nights when the earl was absent, she felt it all the more keenly. She considered when the day would come that she, no longer needed as a governess for Deirdre, must leave Glastonbrook and find new employment. Emilia thought that without a doubt it would tear her apart. It was so difficult to spend one night without him in the house. What would she do when Emilia would see him no longer?
A letter had arrived earlier that afternoon from the Hutchinson home. She had held on to it all day so that there might be something to look forward to when she spent the evening alone in her room, listening to the rain fall. She had held off long enough and finally opened the letter. It was from Anne and Sophie.
The letter was brief, yet still it brought a tear to Emilia’s eye. They expressed how beautiful she had looked at the party, how exquisite her gown was, and how much they missed her. In a side note at the bottom, Sophie also expressed her hope that everything was all right with the earl, as she remembered how cross he was before they had all departed.
She wanted to pen a response instantly, to reassure the girls that everything was just fine, that the earl was tired and wished to return to Glastonbrook at once. What she could not tell the girls was that he dragged her into the garden, pulled her to his chest, and kissed her with so much heat and passion that Emilia feared it might be the end of her, or from that day on that all she could think of was that kiss, and how much she yearned for another, and another.
Emilia could not pen the response immediately, because the longing and the need became too much. What was the earl doing in that moment? Was Lady Spencer smiling at him? Was he pleased with that smile? Did he think her a suitable partner?
Never one to be jealous, it played upon her mind nonetheless. Did the earl note any duplicity in his dinner companion? As Hugh continued to pace above her, Emilia considered again if she should present the earl with the letter as soon as he returned and beg him to read it. Of course, the possible consequence was that she could lose her job and the earl’s trust, two things she desperately wished to retain.
But to do nothing would be entirely out of Emilia’s nature. She felt a desperate need to help in all things and to bring the truth to light. To sit by and do nothing would kill her soul more than trying her best and then failing.
“Tea, Miss Emilia?” she heard Winnifred’s voice say from behind the door.
“Yes,” Emilia re
plied, running to the door and opening it.
Winnifred held a tray in one hand and a taper in the other.
“Horrible storm, is it not?” Winnifred said.
“The worst I’ve seen in weeks. I do hope the earl and Lady Deirdre will get home safely.”
“Oh, they’ll find a way,” Winnifred said, placing the tray on the desk. “Sometimes I think that the earl comes more to life in a good storm. He likes a challenge, you see. Once the thunder and the lightning come crashing down, he’s a whole new man. He withers in the sunshine.”