His Perfect Lady

by Jenn Langston

  Although his eyes were skeptical, she saw a glimpse of pain touching his face. It hurt her more than she thought possible, but she knew the necessity of making him believe she no longer loved him.

  The curse was real and until she had proof she’d broken it by making love to Jonathan, she wouldn’t risk his life. She knew if she told him her real reason for rejecting him, he’d laugh and claim he’d not be affected, but she’d seen it happen. Twice.

  Jonathan closed his eyes. “Please just tell me the truth. Tell me why, and I’ll leave you alone forever if that’s your wish.”

  She scoffed, although it broke her heart to do so. “Women don’t marry men like you. After a good tumble or two between the sheets, they move on to a better-suited man.”

  When he opened his eyes, the pain she saw couldn’t be mistaken. Her heart broke and a tear escaped before she could stop it. “Jonathan, I—”

  “No. You’re right.” He offered her a strained smile. “You deserve better than me, and I support you in your decision. But I implore you, don’t marry Dudgery. He’s not—”

  “Catherine,” Uncle Toban’s voice called out. “Are you out here?”

  “I’ll leave you now, but please reconsider about Dudgery.”

  She wanted to reach out and stop Jonathan. To grab him to her. To tell him she would marry him. Instead, she remained immobile and watched him walk away. When he came upon Uncle Toban, Jonathan nodded but didn’t alter his stride. Then he was gone.

  “What is the trouble, my dear?”

  Swallowing down her sorrow, she met her uncle’s eyes. “No trouble.”

  His smile stabbed at her, making her feel worse for what she’d done to Jonathan, who deserved better than her.

  “I want you to know I’m proud of you. Without a doubt, you did the right—”

  She couldn’t stand here and listen to Uncle Toban. “I’m sorry, but I must excuse myself.”

  Stepping around her uncle, she made her way to her bedchamber. At her desk, she withdrew a piece of parchment. The time had arrived to give Lord Dudgery his answer.

  “Another brandy,” Jonathan called out to Nathaniel.

  “I’m not sure that is a wise idea, my lord.” Concern lit his friend’s face, but Jonathan didn’t care.

  “It isn’t your place to question the patron’s decisions,” Stanwick scolded. “Lord Linwood requested another brandy. Go get him one.”

  Nathaniel’s lips pinched tight, but he didn’t correct Stanwick. As the owner of Ravenhurst, Nathaniel held every right to deny service or bar whomever he wished from the club, but for some reason he didn’t exert his power over them. After giving Jonathan a loaded glance, he left them.

  “Some people just don’t know their place,” Stanwick complained, shaking his head.

  “On the contrary. I believe he’s right. Stopping now would be the wisest choice. I, however, am running low on wisdom as of late.”

  To be more specific, he’d completely lost his good sense over a week ago when he’d proposed to Catherine. He still could not believe the sheer stupidity that encouraged him to once again put himself through her rejection. Now there was no denying the fact Catherine didn’t love him. She probably never had.

  “Then let’s get out of here. I know a few ladies who would be more than happy to join us,” Stanwick suggested.

  Jonathan sat back and studied his brother. Ever since he’d been in London, Stanwick had been attempting to warm the bed of every woman in town. Although the difference in his brother’s personality had plagued him all this time, he found Stanwick’s determination to see him do the same even more confusing.

  “You know a lot of women,” Jonathan observed.

  “Can you blame me? Besides, I don’t know nearly as many as you.”

  “I understand your compulsion to know a varied number of ladies, but why drag me into it?”

  His brother leaned back in his chair and gazed across the room. His lips tight as he crossed his arms. Apparently Stanwick had no desire to answer.

  Irritated, Jonathan mirrored his brother’s position. “For quite a while I’ve been distancing myself from that lifestyle, but you would see me back in it. Why?”

  After a telling sigh, Stanwick dropped his head. “When you left Linwood for London, both times, all I heard were stories from father about you. About your dissolute life. Although I never understood some of your decisions, I envied you.” Stanwick leaned forward. “You had the freedom to make those choices.”

  “If you didn’t agree with my preferences, why are you making similar decisions?”

  “It wasn’t the women I questioned.” Stanwick grinned before his face returned serious. “I suppose I expected to arrive here and realize how right Father had been. Then I could feel better than you and hate you as he had. Instead, I found an exemplary member of Society in you.”

  “I’d hardly describe myself as such.”

  “You are. With the exception of one night with an actress, you’ve done nothing questionable. The talk about you would make an angel jealous.”

  “Then I don’t understand why you’d want to see my name sullied.” The brandy swam in his head, twisting his thoughts. Did his brother hate him so much he wished to see him ruined?

  “I’m so sorry, Jonathan. I guess I just thought if I knock you down a bit in their opinions, it would raise me a little.”

  “Wouldn’t changing yourself be easier?”

  “I was enjoying myself too much.” Stanwick’s eyes fell to the table. “I know it was wrong of me.”

  Jonathan stood. He needed time to think and get away from his brother. Although he would forgive Stanwick in the end, he wanted a chance to be angry first.

  “Don’t go.” Stanwick stood as well. “If anyone should be forced to leave, it’s me. I’ll be in my bedchamber at the townhouse if you need me.”

  Before Jonathan could respond, Stanwick hurried away. Left to himself, Jonathan fell back into his seat. All this time, he’d never suspected Stanwick struggled with his opinion of him. Their father’s poison ran deeper than Jonathan realized.

  “Mind if I join you?” Lord Minor asked, then immediately dropped himself into the chair Stanwick vacated. “I brought a bottle to share.”

  The sloshing amber liquid teased Jonathan with its smooth burn and promise of addled thoughts. Although he didn’t need to add to his inebriated state, the desire to stop thinking wooed him.

  “Please.” Jonathan raised his glass, as Minor brought the bottle forward. The clinking of the glass brought a satisfying sound. “What can I help you with?”

  “Just thought I’d join your celebration.” Minor lifted his brandy in salute.

  “Celebration?” Jonathan’s glass paused on the way to his mouth. The misery he wallowed in could not be described as anything else.

  “Now that our investment attained a ship, the profits should pour in.”

  “I didn’t invest.”

  Minor drew his head back as if surprised. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. However, if you act quickly, it might not be too late.”

  Setting his drink back on the table, Jonathan realized he’d imbibed far too much tonight. His mind ran slower than usual, but he couldn’t understand why the shipping scam continually resurfaced. Although Minor’s tone indicated Jonathan missed out on a great opportunity, his eyes were too eager. Regardless of their claims, they’d not see a shilling from him.

  “I’ll look into it.” Jonathan shrugged, noncommittal.

  “You’ll have more success if you don’t dawdle. I heard Berwick regretted his decision to leave so swiftly. I expect him to return any day now, funds on hand.”

  Jonathan sat up straight. “Leave? To where?”

  “He left London almost a week ago. Didn’t you know?”

  Catherine was gone. Breathing slowly, Jonathan tried to control the aching in his chest. He knew she didn’t love him, but he’d hoped to be able to enjoy an occasional dance or conversation with her through the rest of th
e Season. Had leaving been her decision or her uncle’s?

  “I’ve been out of touch with Society’s gossip lately.” Jonathan silently praised his voice for remaining neutral.

  “I thought you would be the first to know. I can only imagine your relief to know Berwick’s niece is gone.”

  Jonathan’s fists clenched the arm of the chair. “Why would you believe the departure of any member of that family would affect me?”

  Minor grinned. “Don’t play ignorant with me. The girl clearly lost her wits over you. With her gone, you’re safe from her.”

  “That and Dudgery.” Jonathan couldn’t hide the bitterness from his voice.

  “What do you mean? Dudgery has no connection.”

  “Perhaps not yet, but his interest toward Mrs. Gates was clear.”

  “An interest to bed her, maybe.”

  Anger boiled inside of Jonathan as heat clouded his vision. He’d kill Dudgery before he could lay a hand on her. “I understand he meant marriage.”

  Laughter burst from Minor. “Not in this lifetime. Dudgery’s aspirations are set much higher than a baron’s used daughter.”

  Jonathan jumped to his feet. Although his hands shook and his heart pounded as he stared down at Minor’s wide eyes, he managed to keep his temper in check.

  “Please excuse me.”

  Without wasting another minute on Minor, Jonathan fled the club. Too much had happened tonight. Brandy saturated his insides, making his steps uncomfortable and unsteady. As he stumbled down the walk and into his carriage, Catherine’s image would not leave his mind.

  Did Dudgery truly wish to bed her and then leave? But Catherine had made her preference for the earl clear. Could her assessment of the man’s character be so wrong? Did he care?

  Banging his head back against the wall of his carriage, Jonathan tried to clear the fog. Although he couldn’t have her, he loved Catherine. That left him with only one option.

  Chapter 11

  Catherine dipped her bare feet into the cool water, enjoying the good memories it brought. This lake had been a favored spot of hers and Jonathan’s. She closed her eyes and leaned on her elbows as she put her head back. Drinking in the warm sun, she tried to recall the myriad of excuses she had used when returning home soaking wet from a dip in the lake with Jonathan.

  Her eyes began to burn as they normally did when she thought about him. Over two weeks had passed since she last saw him. Taking a deep breath, she tried to concentrate on relieving the tightening in her chest. Life was much too cruel for her to bear.

  As a shadow passed over her face, she snapped her eyes open. Her breath caught. Her heart pounded in her chest. Jonathan. He stood before her, the light framing his face as if he were an angel. His sweet smile warmed her more than the sun, and she basked in the glow for a second before reality returned.

  Scrambling to her feet, she ignored the fire of embarrassment thinking of the improper picture she presented—in a public place, no less. Noticing her stockings and slippers beside her only furthered her humiliation.

  “What a surprise to run into such a lovely lady here,” Jonathan remarked, without a hint of acknowledgement of her disheveled state.

  “It should come as no surprise considering we’re on Berwick land.”

  Fire shot to his eyes as she knew it would. “You’re mistaken, my dear. This belongs to Linwood.”

  She smoothed the creases out of her dress as she held her head high. “The papers can claim what they will, but we know the truth. This property belongs to my family.”

  The argument had been replayed between them many times since they met under similar circumstances. She’d never forget the young lord who’d interrupted her swim with claims of her trespassing. Sadness enveloped her. Everything had changed so drastically between them since that moment.

  “What you have always failed to grasp is that the paper proves ownership. However, I give you permission to trespass on my property at any time.” His eyes traveled her body and then settled on her stockings.

  She knew he thought of her bare legs under her dress. “You, my lord, are no gentlemen,” she scolded.

  He laughed. “I’ve never claimed to be. Now, if you would like, I can give you a moment to dress. Or better still, you could finish undressing.”

  Her cheeks flamed and it had nothing to do with the sun. She couldn’t handle his devouring stare, nor could she deny how much she wanted him. Tossing her shoulders back, she kept reminding herself she was no longer available.

  “What are you doing here? You’re missing the Season.” To her dismay, her voice came out weak.

  “The Season is for people looking to marry. That fate isn’t for me.”

  Although he shrugged it off, he averted his gaze. She’d clearly hurt him more than he would admit. The knowledge pierced her heart. She wished for nothing more than circumstances to be different. However, she couldn’t take a chance with his life.

  “There are plenty of women—”

  “Where is your betrothed on this fine day?”

  Squeezing her lips closed, she resisted the urge to speak her mind. “I don’t see how that is your concern.”

  “Ah.” He slowly nodded. “That explains a lot. Can’t say I’m sorry to hear it, though.”

  “Hear what?”

  “Don’t be ashamed. If you and Dudgery have decided not to wed, you will have no objections from me.”

  Irritated with his cryptic words, Catherine stomped her foot. “What are you talking about?”

  “A woman who has no desire to speak of her betrothed, combined with a man who has yet to announce the engagement, provides a clear indication that all is not well with the couple.”

  She tried to ignore the pleasure spreading through her. He’d obviously been checking for news of her engagement. Lord Dudgery had decided not to make an announcement out of respect to his beloved cousin, who had fallen ill. As his cousin wasn’t expected to recover, Lord Dudgery wanted him to live the last of his life believing he held a chance to become the Earl of Dudgery.

  “You’re mistaken. Lord Dudgery and I decided it best to wait before announcing our betrothal,” she explained.

  He tilted his head and regarded her with curiosity in his expression. “Then please enlighten me. What reason could he possibly have for wanting to wait before making his claim on you known?”

  Crossing her arms, she glared at him. “How dare you come here and interrogate me? Simply because I shared your bed doesn’t mean you have any right to me or to delve into my concerns.”

  “Actually, you have yet to share my bed. An oversight that can easily be corrected, I must add. And I believe our shared past gives me enough rights.”

  “You couldn’t possibly be more wrong.” Bending down, she collected her belongings. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must be on my way.”

  As she marched toward her mare, Daisy, the dry grass and pebbles stabbed into her feet, but she ignored the pain. Jonathan posed too much of a threat to her sanity to remain in his company long. His very presence made her wish she could throw herself into his arms.

  “Then I bid you a good day,” he called out from behind her. “But we aren’t done here.”

  His threat made her shiver. When she arrived beside Daisy, she cast a glance behind her. He was gone.

  During the entire ride back to the manor house, her mind overflowed with questions. Jonathan had no reason to be back in the country during the middle of the Season. Was it she who brought him here? And why was he preoccupied with her relationship with Lord Dudgery?

  “Catherine, you’re late,” Uncle Toban pointed out when she dragged herself into the house.

  “Is he here already?” Catherine sighed. She hadn’t realized she’d lost so much time.

  Lord Dudgery had made a habit of visiting her daily, exactly an hour before luncheon. Although they hadn’t publicly recognized one another, he’d never missed a visit. Or an opportunity to try to persuade her to become more familiar with hi
m. She’d grown tired of his slobbering kisses and not-too-subtle attempts to lure her into his bed.

  Although not entirely presentable, she knew how much the earl hated to wait. Hanging her head, she made her way to the drawing room. She had to remind herself he’d be gone in less than an hour.

  “I’ll not stand for this any longer,” Aunt Mildred declared loudly. “You have a duty to Linwood and your family.”

  Jonathan rubbed his temples at the shrill sound of his aunt’s voice. Since his return, she’d dogged his steps and invaded his space. He sat on the verge of giving in to her in order to acquire some privacy.

  “I realize that, but I still don’t understand how throwing a ball can fulfill either of those.”

  She rolled her eyes heavenward as if seeking patience. “Not just a ball. As you’ve spent most of your time in London, I want you to host a ball that would rival one presented by the most elite of Society.”

  “I stand corrected, but you still have not answered me.”

  “The countryside may not be as varied as town, but we have a vast number of suitable young maids seeking a husband.”

  Resisting the urge to beat his head against the desk, Jonathan shook it. He shouldn’t have been surprised his aunt’s suggestion led to marriage. For a number of days now, she’d become so fixated on the ball, he thought she’d given up her quest to see him married. Apparently he’d been wrong.

  “So I’m to be a matchmaker? I’m sorry, Aunt Mildred, but I have too many duties to attend to without adding ‘husband locator’ to the list.”

  She drew her hands to her ample waist. “Don’t be obtuse. You know very well I mean for you to marry one of them.”

  “And why would I do that?” He leaned back in his chair as he steepled his fingers. Part of him wished Stanwick had returned with him so Aunt Mildred would have someone else to marry off.

  “To secure your father’s line, of course. I’d die before I see anyone but an Alastair as the head of Linwood.”