Teaching the Earl

by Amelia Hart

  He would find an inn, and hope they had paper and ink to write a letter. He would hire a man to ride the distance, and pay him well. Then he could hurry back to Elizabeth and explain himself before she had time to act.

  Pray that she did not act swiftly, out of pique or true hurt. She cared for him at least a little. Surely a few hours of feeling abandoned was not enough time to turn to another.

  Surely not his Elizabeth.

  Surely not.

  _____

  It was not at all the same without Chris. Elizabeth sat in a corner of the ballroom, and swung an idle foot. Mama would have been horrified to see her so casual. But Mama was not here, and neither was Chris, and she was in no mood to circulate and talk of polite nothings. Lydia was here. Elizabeth could go find her and no doubt be better amused. But even that prospect did not tempt her.

  She should take the necklace to the library, and then if she wanted she could leave. A waste, when it was such a successful ball, and so pretty, but if one was not in the mood, it did not matter how pretty were one's surroundings.

  She stood and moved swiftly through the crowd, determined now. An early night would probably be a restorative thing. Perhaps she was jaded from too many entertainments. No, that was wishful thinking. She wanted Chris. Nothing was as pleasant without him there to talk to about it. Was that pathetic? Perhaps a little, but never mind that. She could be slightly pathetic in the deep, hidden recesses of her womanly heart.

  The library door was closed, the noise of the ball a little muffled here. She opened the door. A single candlestick was lit on a small table in the center of the room, the same table where she had said she would leave the necklace.

  She padded across the carpet, her hand going to the hidden pocket that held the necklace.

  Behind her a board creaked.

  She whirled. "Who's there!"

  Michael appeared abruptly out of the shadows.

  "Why are you lurking there? I thought I made myself perfectly clear. I don't want to see you."

  "I know that's what you say. But I also know a passion like ours does not die so easily. You're afraid of him, aren't you? That's why you won't admit-"

  "I've had enough of this nonsense." She strode for the door.

  An arm wrapped around her midriff, hard enough to make breathing difficult, and lifted her off the floor.

  "Put me down! What do you imagine-"

  "No more. I'll decide what's best for us," he said.

  She kicked and flailed, incredulous and aflame with rage, but though she connected to his shins hard enough to bruise, he still tramped to the window, opened it awkwardly and put one leg over the sill. She screamed. Would she be heard through thick walls and the noise of the merriment?

  "Be quiet," he commanded, put his other leg out of the window, and jumped. As he did she thrashed and knocked him off balance.

  When they hit the ground there was a sickening snap.

  _____

  "Good evening, Mrs Holbrook. I hope you'll pardon me for the awkwardness of never having been introduced to you. I had counted on Lady Carhampton to do the honors, but she came on ahead of me, and now I'm marooned. Christopher Alexander, of Carhampton, at your service."

  "Lord Carhampton. By all means, let us dispense with formality. You wife and I are friends enough to forgive it, and I've been curious to meet the man who won such an open, tender heart as Elizabeth's."

  "The greatest prize in my possession."

  "I hope so, my lord." She inclined her head with a cordial smile. An interesting woman, small and delicately built with sharp features that were almost elfin, yet with a hint of steel behind that politely expressed wish.

  He grinned at her. "You must be delighted with your event. It's obviously a great success."

  "It's very well attended, to be sure."

  "And everyone smiling and enjoying themselves."

  "Yes. That's very satisfactory."

  "Well done. And congratulations on your marriage, of course."

  "Thank you."

  "Those of us who know of Mr Holbrook, know you've triumphed."

  He had meant it as humor, but it fell flat. Her figure went stiff, and she turned her head away. Evidently this was a tender area for her. He should have heeded Elizabeth's gentle words on the subject.

  "Do you know where Elizabeth is?"

  "I've seen her, but I'm not sure where she is now."

  "Elizabeth?" said Colin Holbrook, coming up behind his wife and clasping her shoulders. "She just went into the library."

  "Did she?” asked Mrs Holbrook. “I wonder why. I don't think I even had the candles lit in there."

  "Do you think it has something to do with her meeting with Michael Seton?" asked Mr Holbrook.

  Chris felt his whole body go rigid as an iron bar, and his gaze flew to Mr Holbrook's and found the man already watching him. "I beg your pardon?" He saw Mr Holbrook had said it deliberately, to see if he knew. Holbrook was not exactly a friend, but they knew each other, and now both had new wives in common. Perhaps fellow feeling linked them. Holbrook would not keep Seton's secrets for him.

  "I believe Mr Seton took advantage of my wife's trusting nature to thrust a meeting upon Lady Carhampton, here yesterday," Mr Holbrook said. "Elizabeth was not pleased to find him here, but marched off to confront him in the library, and came back five minutes later fuming. Naturally I don't know what was said, but when she disappears into the same room for no apparent reason, I wonder if the events are linked."

  "But you didn't follow her?"

  "I saw you here. You've a chance to nip anything unpleasant in the bud. Our Elizabeth is hardly a schemer, but she is very trusting. I could help her conceal her choices from you, or assist you to protect her. I know my own preference."

  "I'll go investigate, I think," Chris said with a pretense of calm, bowed and walked away, head held high and still.

  His mind sprang ahead. Surely it was craziness to think Elizabeth had leapt straight from his rejection into the arms of her previous suitor. No. It could not be so. She had said she disliked Seton, and Holbrook confirmed she was angry after meeting with him.

  Yet still there was that seed of doubt. Why had she closeted herself alone with him at all? And had she chosen to do so again now?

  He walked faster, feeling suspended, as if he was in a dream.

  With the handle of the library door in his hand, the sense of unreality sharply increased. What would he find behind that wood panel?

  The room beyond was dark except for the light of a single candle, and seemed uninhabited.

  He saw the wide open window, and his stomach clenched with dread.

  She had fled with Seton-

  "You stupid ass. I would kick you, if I was wearing proper shoes, but you're not worth breaking a toe over." The voice drifted in through the open window. Her voice. His Elizabeth. "What did you think you were going to do with me? How far could you get in London with an unwilling woman screaming blue murder at you? Or were you about to knock me unconscious? Delightful thought."

  Chris eased closer to the window, close enough to see her standing outside, hands on hips as she berated a man crouched awkwardly on the ground. Michael Seton. Chris grinned.

  "You should have done that then tossed me out of the window before jumping yourself. How could you imagine you had the strength to leap down with me? Bungler. I think you've broken that ankle, and it serves you right. I hope the bonesetter makes you scream. Scream and scream and scream."

  Chris shook his head to hear advice on kidnapping mixed with reprimand for it. It was difficult to be righteously angry at the cur as his wife laid into him with such scorn. Oh, he would see the boy did not repeat his error. But for the moment, her diatribe was pure pleasure.

  Though she seemed to have reached the end now, for she gathered her skirts clear of the grass and started out towards the front of the house.

  The spirit of mischief seized him. He strode forward, gripped the windowsill and vaulted lightly ou
t into the night.

  _____

  She spun as she heard the dull thud of something hitting the ground. A tall, lithe figure straightened, skirted Michael's huddled form without a glance, and stalked towards her.

  "Elizabeth," he said, his voice throbbing with passion, "You have betrayed me."

  "Oh! Chris!" What was he doing here? "No, I never-"

  "You have taken a lover. I am deceived."

  "I didn't-"

  You take my devotion, my constancy and trust and you grind it beneath your heel." He came closer, arms uplifted as if imploring mercy from the heavens.

  "I never would-"

  "How could you chose him over me? How could you treat me like this? After all I've done for you, all we've been to each other. You have torn my heart in two." He gestured as if tearing something limb from limb, with dramatic fervor. "Destroyed!"

  "It isn't. I swear it isn't. Only listen to me."

  "And all the time you were planning to throw me over for your love, Michael Seton."

  "Oh, vile! No!"

  "All this time, I see you have held him in your heart."

  "How could I? He is so-"

  "You have waited for the first moment I was not watching over you, and you have fled into his arms."

  "His arms are the last place I want to-"

  "It is all ruined. Ruined!" He flung himself down on one knee before her, took handfuls of her filmy skirt and buried his face in them, shoulders shaking.

  "Oh, Chris, you mustn't! I love you. Not him. Never him. I wouldn't even look at him, or at any man. How could I? They're nothing next to you."

  He had gone very still, and now he slowly lifted his face to her. What looked like a smile was dying on his lips, his forehead wrinkled in bewilderment. "You love me?"

  "Of course I do. Completely. So don't be sad." She knelt on the grass and grasped his shoulders, looking him earnestly in the eye. "I love you. I won't leave you."

  "I . . ." His hands rose to cup her chin, and wonder dawned in his eyes. "I love you too."

  The world stood still. She stared at him, her mouth dropped open and she took a sobbing breath. "Oh, do you? Do you really?"

  He leaned forward to close the scarce inches between them, and their lips met, warm and so extraordinarily sweet. It was there, in his tender touch, in his soft savoring of her. He did love her. It was true.

  She broke off the kiss and looked up at him, blinking through sudden tears. "I thought perhaps you might come to. You've been so kind. Oh, that is wonderful. I have loved you so much for weeks, but then you probably already knew that."

  He gathered her into his arms. She burrowed in, face pressed into the side of his neck, and the feeling of his body was bliss against her own. She was home.

  When he spoke his voice was very deep and husky. "I wondered if you could. Your heart is so big. Big enough to embrace even an ass such as I."

  "It's all that raw potential I love, darling. With time, you'll learn how to be really lovable and I-" He reared back to look at her, faint indignation waking on his face, and she had to break off and chortle. "I'm funning. Don't look at me so. Of course I love you. You are so perfectly delightful. And also so handsome - even when you scowl - you melt my heart entirely."

  He squeezed her with arms wrapped tight around her waist. "So it's my looks, is it? They have cozened you into acceptance?"

  "They were what first intrigued me. Which seems so shallow and silly these days, when I think of everything you are. But I know you better, now, and I have seen how you work so tirelessly to help others, and how compassionate you are even when you're wrapped up in grief and guilt. You're a good man, and I admire that."

  "I'm glad you think so. I seem to have lost sight of it, these days."

  "Oh no, it's there. Never fret. Oh, I'm so happy I could burst. My own dearest Chris."

  Two figures appeared at the open window.

  "Do you need any assistance?" called Colin Holbrook. He and Julia strained to see into the darkness.

  Elizabeth disentangled herself with slow reluctance, then walked towards the window. "Michael Seton has fallen from the window and broken his ankle. He'll need a bonesetter."

  From the darkness behind her she heard Chris say something very quietly to Michael in a vicious tone, and she winced a little, but hoped it would be enough to make him keep his distance. She had no wish to continue as a target of his ardor.

  "I'll send a servant to fetch him," said Julia, and hurried away.

  "Broke his ankle falling from the window, was it?" said Colin speculatively, his eyes on Chris, his brows raised.

  "An unfortunate accident," Chris agreed, with easy insouciance.

  Elizabeth thought of something, turned her back on them and thrust a hand into the hidden pocket of her skirt. She brought out the sapphire necklace, and threw it as hard as she could at Michael. He yelped.

  "When a woman says no, she means it! Do you hear me?" she hissed.

  "That is very true," said Colin Holbrook gravely, and she glanced up at him, startled. He only smiled, leaned out of the window and offered her a hand. Chris put his hands around her waist and lifted her high enough to easily reach, and she stepped up onto the sill, then down into the room. Colin had to lean hard on the sill and brace himself to haul Chris up, then Chris took hold of the sill in a firm grip and levered himself the rest of the way.

  "Should have come around the front way," said Chris to Colin.

  "It's hard to see in the dark. And now no one needs to wonder what you were doing coming out of the garden where Seton lies with his ankle broken. Let's not have speculation circulate about why you might bear Seton a grudge.'

  "True enough." Two gentlemen in perfect accord, agreeing to keep a lady's good name free from gossip.

  "Now that you two have decided that to your satisfaction, I'd like to dance," said Elizabeth, and held out her hand to Chris. He took it and kissed it. She eased in close. "Though first I'd like to hear a great deal more about this love you have for me."

  "Would you?"

  Colin Holbrook shut the window and went silently back into the ballroom, tactfully leaving them alone in the dark quiet of the library.

  "At length," she said. "And very poetically. I've waited such a long time to hear you say it."

  "And you're not skilled at waiting."

  "No, not at all. It's been extremely difficult."

  "I'm not very apt at poetry."

  "One improves with practice. And I'll be tolerant." She grinned up at him, feeling expansively playful and lightheaded. "Your eyes are the color of sparkling sage."

  "Sparkling sage? But isn't sage an herb? How can an herb sparkle?"

  "Of course it can't,” she said. “But instead of examining the exact words, you should simply enjoy the fact I have noticed your eyes, and that I admire them."

  "I see. So I might say I adore your ripe lips, like two ruby pillows."

  "Oh, yes." She smiled blissfully, to find he would play with her, her dignified Lord Carhampton. Her Chris. Her love. "That's perfect. And I find heaven in the clasp of your big hand."

  "With all its calluses?" She gazed at him with her eyebrows raised, and after a moment he grinned. "Ahem. I beg your pardon. Your delicate, smooth hand is silky and pale as a lily."

  "Your happy smile dazzles me more than the sun. I want to see it rise and shine through every single day."

  "Ah, Elizabeth," he said, suddenly serious, and put both arms around her waist. "I do want to see your smile every day. I'm a lucky man, to have won you. I never knew what I prize I had. I was a fool."

  "I'm glad to have brought you back from the darkness of your despair. You don't belong there. We'll be so happy together."

  "We will be. A couple more years and I'll be able to give you everything you ever wanted-"

  "All I need is you. There's nothing I want more." She could barely contain her joy inside her skin. She felt it seeped out over him, into the room and everywhere, rosy and pink, changing all he
r world.

  "You have me, my precious Beth. You have me, always and forever."

  EPILOGUE

  Richard gave an almighty shriek, and battered his grandfather with chubby fists. Chris winced but Mr Cross only smiled benevolently.

  "Good set of lungs, this one," he said.

  "He's certainly healthy."

  "And thriving. I like to see them robust and fearless. Do you want your Papa, do you? Yes, you do. Yes you do."

  Richard blinked bright eyes, his hands grasping at the air between himself and Chris. Chris leaned forward and took him, then held him cautiously on his knee, and bounced him a little. Richard crowed, seized a handful of cravat and tried to stuff it in his mouth, his whole body straining with intent.

  Mr Cross eyed them both. "Not quite accustomed to him yet?"

  "He's scarcely been out of his mother's arms since he was born."

  "I can't believe that. Lively little chap like this, I'm sure he's roaming around every second he’s awake, into everything."

  That was certainly an accurate picture of his son. Chris nodded ruefully. "Now that he's crawling, yes. But before that, he was scarcely ever laid down."

  "Our Elizabeth does love babies. She was always playing with our little ones. But you deserve a place too. Don't let her crowd you out."

  "It's not that precisely. She's very encouraging. It's more that I have so little experience with small children."

  "And it's easier to just let the women take care of everything. I know. And particularly when you've been so wrapped up in restoring your fortunes. I understand that, and you've done fine work there, but nothing is as important as this. A man must be present for his children. They're our only hope for immortality. Raise them right, give them your values and you'll live on far beyond your time."

  Chris blinked. Not many people ventured to advise him, these days. He had grown unaccustomed to it. "Elizabeth has said you're a philosopher. I see it's true."