You Never Forget Your First Earl

by Ella Quinn

  Even after breaking with the Prince Regency, there was no one with as much influence over gentlemen’s fashion as Brummell. Going as high up on her toes as she could, she leaned forward and bussed his cheek. “I shall see you this afternoon.”

  After informing Cook that they would have company at tea, Elizabeth found her aunt had returned. She told Aunt about Harrington’s—would she call him by his title in private if they married?—visit with Gavin. Naturally, she approved of Gavin’s response to his lordship.

  Several minutes later they set out in the town coach to Bond and Bruton Streets. Yet, even though Elizabeth and her aunt visited Hatchards and found several books that looked as if they would keep her attention, in addition to glove makers, several milliners, and Phaeton’s Bazaar, she could still not keep her mind off Harrington’s visit this afternoon.

  Was there anything she could do to make him wish to spend more time with her? She had already tried getting him to talk about himself, and the conversation always came back to his assignment with Sir Charles. Perhaps she should be more forward. Then again, she did not wish to make Harrington think she was a sad romp. If only he would take more of an interest in what she liked, they could discuss their differences and similarities.

  In short, all she knew about him was that he was extremely handsome, loved to travel, was an excellent dancer, excited about his future position.... Now that she considered it, she knew a great deal more about him than she had thought. Except how he actually felt about her.

  Yet, short of asking him directly—which she could never do—how was she to discover that?

  Then her aunt’s words came back to Elizabeth.

  “There is nothing wrong with letting a man chase you.”

  She heaved a sigh. It might be better to focus on how she would know if Lord Harrington cared about her. There had to be signs, behaviors that he should exhibit.

  Again, she thought about the way her friends’ husbands had behaved, and they all had one thing in common. Possessiveness.

  The men’s gazes followed their chosen lady if she ventured away from them, and they attached themselves to her side when their lady was near. Elizabeth had also noticed distinct glares from the gentlemen when another man was too affable to the lady. At one point Lord Merton had actually told a gentleman wishing to dance with Dotty to go away.

  Would Harrington ever want her by his side all the time? If he did, then was that the key to knowing if he cared for her? If he loved her?

  If it was, he had a long way to go.

  “What has put you in a brown study?” her aunt asked.

  “I simply do not know if I will be able to discern by Lord Harrington’s behavior if he cares about me.”

  “My dear Elizabeth.” Her aunt chuckled. “Believe me when I tell you that his behavior will make it perfectly clear how he feels about you.”

  Recalling what her friends had told her about marital relations, she found herself fighting the heat rising in her cheeks. “I certainly hope so.”

  * * *

  Geoff held out his hand to Nettle and waited while he carefully placed another length of starched linen into Geoff’s hand. He took a breath before wrapping the cravat around his neck and began to tie it. Several minutes later, he had finally achieved the perfect Waterfall.

  His valet beamed. “Excellent, if I may say so, my lord.”

  “You may, and after only four attempts.” Ever since he’d seen Lord Alvanley wearing it, Geoff had been determined to accomplish the same result.

  He had heard often enough that ladies liked a well-tied cravat. He only hoped that Miss Turley was pleased. “Where is that list?”

  “In your desk, my lord.”

  After learning that he must indeed court Miss Turley, he had decided to apply at least three of his grandmother’s and cousin’s suggestions each time he met with her.

  Geoff opened the drawer and found the paper on top. Taking it out, he read down their recommendations until he came to one he thought had merit.

  Ask her questions about what she likes. By the end of the conversation you should know her favorite color, which flowers she prefers, and her favorite piece of music.

  More flowers were clearly in order. While he was drinking tea with her he would request a second set for the ball tomorrow evening and ask her to ride with him in the Park the following day as well. That would make two evenings in succession where he danced with her twice and two days in a row that they would drive out together. Maybe then he would be able to make some progress with her.

  He turned his attention back to the list.

  Take her someplace she would like to go. Gunter’s for an ice is always pleasant. A picnic in Richmond is nice as well, as is the theater, but you would have to get up a party.

  Gunter’s it was. He had neither the time nor the inclination to ride out to Richmond with a group of other people. Getting up a party for the theater was easy enough. He had only to invite her brother and aunt. Geoff would have to discover what types of plays she enjoyed. He had a fondness for comedies, but this was about what Miss Turley wanted. He hoped their tastes were similar.

  He arrived at her house just as Lady Bristow had been assisted from their coach.

  “Good afternoon, my lady.”

  “Lord Harrington, we are glad you could join us.”

  “As am I.” Geoff hurried over, edging the footman out, to take Miss Turley’s hand. “Miss Turley, I hope you had an enjoyable day.”

  “Good afternoon, my lord.” She smiled up at him as she placed her fingers on his arm. “We did indeed. And you?”

  He gazed down into smiling blue eyes. Courting her would not be nearly as onerous as he had originally thought. “Much better now.”

  A light blush colored her cheeks. “Let us have tea. I think Cook may have made some of her special biscuits.”

  “My lady, Miss Turley.” Littleton strode toward them.

  Damn the man. Why couldn’t he stay away from Miss Turley?

  Had Geoff truly not made his interest in her clear? He’d thought . . . but perhaps his grandmother was right, and he was the only one who was certain he wished to wed Miss Turley.

  Fortunately, Littleton had had to greet Lady Bristow before he could acknowledge Miss Turley. Geoff whispered to her, “Thank you for agreeing to the dances and to drive with me tomorrow. You have made me an extremely happy man.”

  She smiled at him again, and he found he enjoyed having her regard a great deal. Now all he had to do was keep Littleton from making any progress with her.

  “You may join us for tea if you wish, Lord Littleton,” Lady Bristow said.

  Geoff cursed to himself. That was not what he’d hoped for.

  “Thank you, ma’am”—he bowed—“I would indeed.” Now that Geoff had been given permission to court Miss Turley, perhaps he should hint Littleton away.

  Geoff placed his other hand over Elizabeth’s hand on his arm, but as they turned to go into the house, Littleton said, “Miss Turley. You are looking especially delightful today. I could not wait until our ride to see you again.”

  Hell and damnation! Geoff had been right. She was riding with the bounder today. He’d have to ensure that never happened again.

  “Thank you, my lord.” The corners of her lips tilted up and he was glad to see that the smile she gave the man didn’t seem as bright as the one she’d given him.

  Drat it all. What the devil was happening to him that he was now studying her so closely as to notice, or hope, he had noticed the difference in her smiles?

  Obviously, being told he could court her didn’t mean other gentlemen had to stay away. Or perhaps Turley hadn’t spoken to Littleton yet. Yes. That must be the case. Apparently, it fell upon Geoff to inform his lordship that Elizabeth was taken. Although, showing him might be better. He’d simply have to monopolize her time during tea.

  When she sank onto the sofa, he ignored her aunt’s hand motioning him to a chair next to the sofa and sat next to her. He thou
ght he saw Littleton’s lips twitch and wondered what the man planned to do, and what Geoff could do to limit his lordship’s attentions to Elizabeth.

  The tea tray was brought in followed by her brother. While his soon-to-be-betrothed wife poured—a duty, he was pleased to see, she performed with as much grace as his mother—Turley strolled with Littleton to a door leading out to the terrace. The men spoke in voices too low to hear, but Geoff trusted Turley would inform Littleton that Geoff planned to marry Elizabeth. That she was off the Marriage Mart.

  Yet, what if Littleton wished to wed her as well? He had already stood up with her twice on two different occasions. And Turley had said it was up to his sister to decide.

  Damnation, that’s what Geoff had forgotten to do. There was another ball this week. He was not going to miss his opportunity to dance twice with her again. “Miss Turley, would you do me the honor of dancing the first waltz as well as the supper dance with me at Lady Jersey’s ball?”

  A faint line formed between her well-arched brows. “How I wish you would have asked me earlier. The first waltz is taken.” She tilted her head a little and smiled. “I still have the second waltz available if that would do.”

  “Yes.” It was not as important as the first dance, but it would do. “And the supper dance?” he prompted, reminding her that she had already promised it to him. “I believe that is a waltz as well.”

  “Yes. Your name is already on my dance card.” She nodded. “I believe you are correct that it is a waltz.”

  Setting his teacup down, he glanced at her. “Your garden looks lovely.”

  “Thank you. My mother planted it.” Her voice was soft with longing, as if she remembered her mother fondly. After a long moment, she said, “Would you care to take a stroll?”

  “Thank you. I would enjoy that.” Standing, he offered her his hand and she took it. As long as no one else decided to join them, this would give him a chance to discover her favorite flower, color, and music.

  Littleton started toward them and Geoff bit off a curse. “Miss Turley”—his lordship bowed—“tea was lovely. Unfortunately, I must depart. I shall see you at five.”

  Geoff held fast to her fingers on his arm, holding her up so that she was unable to curtsey. “I look forward to it.”

  “And I look forward to our drive.” Littleton inclined his head to Geoff. “Harrington.”

  “Littleton.” Geoff inclined his head as well, trying not to clench his jaw. He hoped the dratted man went back to the country soon. Littleton was much too interested in Miss Turley. “I wish you a pleasant day.”

  “Do you, indeed?” The man lifted a brow. “I rather thought you just wished me gone.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Elizabeth stifled a laugh. Harrington’s jaw began to tick, and she rather thought that he wished Lord Littleton would fall into the Thames and drown or have some equally unfortunate accident.

  “Shall we?” She led him outside before either man could make another comment. “My aunt received a letter from one of her friends who is in Brussels. It appears they are doing nothing but attending myriad entertainments.”

  “I’ve heard that as well.” He grinned, then sobered. “Although it is no laughing matter, you might already know that Lord Fitzroy Somerset, our chargé d’affaires in Paris, was forced to gather the rest of the embassy people and flee to Dieppe.”

  “I had not heard. That is no way for a country to treat diplomats.” She was relieved that Lord Fitzroy had had the foresight to take his people and leave instead of staying in hopes that they received the passes they required.

  She had led him to the arbor at one end of the garden where they were out of sight of the house.

  “I have to agree.” Lord Harrington raised her bare hand to his lips, causing her to suck in a breath as he pressed a kiss on to her knuckles. “I would rather talk about you. It seems that we are always discussing other things, and it occurred to me that I don’t even know your favorite color.”

  Her heart began to beat faster. This was what she had been waiting for. His interest in the person she was as opposed to how suitable a wife she would be. “Pink.”

  “Any color pink?” he asked. “There seem to be a great many different shades.”

  “The same pink as the roses you sent. My mother planted dozens of different colored pink rose bushes.” They had stopped strolling, and she gazed into his eyes. “They make me think of spring and the earth renewing itself. What is your favorite color?”

  Harrington seemed taken aback. “No one has ever asked me before.” He paused for a moment. “I think it must be green like the ash tree leaves when they first appear.”

  “Shall I assume we both enjoy spring?” She was glad she hadn’t sounded arch or too coy.

  “I believe you can say that. I love the feel and smell of the air as it turns mild.” Somehow she found herself a little closer to him. Her skirts almost brushed his legs. “What about flowers?”

  “I think you have already discovered my favorite blooms.” Warmth rose in her cheeks as his gaze captured hers.

  “Have I?” He stood even closer as he twined his fingers through hers.

  Elizabeth’s heart was pounding so hard, she was sure he must be able to hear it. “The pink roses you sent were exquisite.” She was breathless, and he was becoming perfect. Was it all due to Lord Littleton’s supposed interest? “They are my favorites.”

  “What music do you like best?” Lord Harrington’s voice was low, and a shiver ran through her as he bent his head as if he might kiss her.

  “You have not yet told me your favorite flower.” She raised her face to his, their lips only inches apart.

  “The same roses I sent you.” With one finger, he lightly stroked her cheek and it was all she could do not to lean into his caress. “The petals remind me of your cheeks. Soft and silky.”

  “Oh.” Inane as it was, that was all she could think of to say.

  Please let him kiss me.

  He took a curl and wrapped it around his finger, then let it go. His palm cradled the nape of her neck. If he didn’t kiss her, she would go mad. “What about music?”

  Music? Why were they talking about music when they should be kissing? “I am very fond of Mr. Pleyel.”

  One hand held her waist, and the other played gently with her curls. “I prefer Storace and Beethoven.”

  His breath tickled her ear. They were close, so close. If she moved an inch, her skirts would touch his boots. If he then moved, their bodies would touch. She tried to keep herself from sinking into him. A little voice urged caution, but a moment later she couldn’t hear it over the racing of her blood.

  With one finger he lifted her chin. And his lips were close, so close to hers.

  Yes, yes, yes! She closed her eyes, knowing it was finally going to happen.

  “Miss,” a footman called from the other side of the hedge. “Her ladyship says you must dress if you’re not to be late for your ride.”

  “I’ll be along in a moment.” Elizabeth was going to murder her aunt. She searched Harrington’s eyes. They held a heat she had never seen in them before. “I am sorry.”

  “As am I.” Instead of stepping back, he brushed his lips lightly across hers. Not a kiss, but the promise of one. It was as if he had lit a spark in her, and she wanted what would come next. “I shall see you this evening.”

  “I look forward to it.” Perhaps then she could experience her first kiss.

  Harrington’s smile—sweet and sad at the same time—touched her very soul. “We should go before your brother comes looking for you.”

  “Of course,” she answered by rote. She had, apparently, forgotten how to think. No one had told her about that part. Her friends should have told her about thinking of nothing but kisses. Or not being able to think when kisses might be on offer.

  Placing her hand on his arm, he led them out of the garden and into the parlor. Gavin was there to walk Harrington to the front door. They would have no more priv
ate time together until later. She sighed as they left the room.

  “I take it that means all went well?” her aunt asked.

  “Better than I could have hoped.” Elizabeth raised her fingers to her lips. “Much better than I had hoped.”

  From his behavior last evening, she had never dreamed he wanted to kiss her. And for the first time he had asked about her, and they had actually talked. Elizabeth felt as if she was walking on air, or clouds. Had she fallen in love so easily?

  She glanced at the clock. She had fifteen minutes to change for her ride with Lord Littleton, an airing she now had no wish to make.

  “Lizzy.” Her brother’s voice brought her out of her reverie. “What did you do to Harrington? He was almost jaunty when he left.”

  The question was not what she’d done to him, but what he had done to her. She shook her head. “I don’t know.

  * * *

  Geoff left Turley House and could not resist strutting a bit. He had accomplished more with Miss Turley—Elizabeth. He was certain he could now think of her by her first name— in the past two hours than he had in the last two weeks. Not only did he know her favorite color—pink—which flowers she preferred—pink roses—and her favorite composer—Pleyel, but he had almost kissed her, and she had allowed it. Indeed, Elizabeth responded as if she’d wanted him to kiss her. If it hadn’t been for her damn appointment with Littleton, Geoff would have kissed her, and kept kissing her until she agreed to marry him. Then she’d be his.

  Still, he could not afford to be generous to Littleton. Today would be the last time he took Elizabeth riding. Geoff would make sure of that by occupying her afternoons from this day forward.

  Guiltily, he remembered his reaction to what Grandmamma had said. Now that he was on his way to securing Elizabeth as his wife, he supposed he should thank her and his cousin for their advice. He would also make his intentions known to the rest of the ton.

  He’d seen several gentlemen remaining by their ladies’ sides at balls and other entertainments. He would stay by Elizabeth’s side this evening and every evening thereafter. At least until they were wed. No one was going to take her away from him.