by Laura Landon
He stabbed his braised beef tip as if he were practicing for the murder Elly feared he might commit. He was appalled that Cassie not only had the nerve to show up at his home, but that she had every intention of staying.
His gaze wandered down the long table again and lingered briefly on each of his brothers and sisters. One of them was responsible for Cassie being here and whoever it was had outmaneuvered him to a fault.
His blood ran cold and he stabbed at a small potato boiled in crème sauce. He missed his target and the potato slid across his fine china plate, up the small rise, then over the gold rim. It landed on the white linen tablecloth beside his empty wine glass.
Cassandra, who’d seemed to be totally engrossed in a conversation with Jeremy Waverley, her late husband’s cousin and only relative, stopped her conversation. With a barely suppressed grin, she motioned to the closest footman and whispered something in his ear. The servant rushed to the sideboard, then returned with a wine decanter and filled Harrison’s wine glass.
“If you wanted more wine, Fellingsdown, all you had to do was motion to one of your staff.” Lady Lathamton popped an asparagus tip into her dainty mouth and chewed. “There’s no need to shoot food at your glass.”
Harrison gave her the most glaringly hostile look he could manage then lifted the fresh wine to his lips and drank. He noticed that everyone at the table watched him with renewed interest – everyone except Charfield, who couldn’t seem to take his eyes off Elly.
When he noticed the ease with which Elly conversed with London’s most notorious rake, he wasn’t sure he’d made the wisest decision by inviting Charfield to make her forget the admirer the twins had invented for her.
He took another sip of his wine and vowed to remind Charfield one more time of the conditions they’d agreed to. The object of inviting him had been to keep Elly from being hurt, not put her in greater jeopardy.
He took a larger swallow of wine than usual and set his glass down on the table.
Lively conversations went on all around him. A loud burst of laughter at the other end of the table drew his attention Everyone at the far end of the table was engrossed in a tale the Duke of Parneston was telling.
Toward the center of the table, George and Spence carried on enthusiastic discussions with Lady Brianna, Lady Hannah and a few of their guests.
Only a few seats away, Jules appeared enamored of Miss Amelia Hastings and whatever topic she’d chosen.
Harrison made a mental note to keep a more careful eye on his brothers. Each one of them had made excellent choices in the women they’d asked to have included on the guest list, but Harrison wasn’t prepared to handle anything more serious from any of them. He had troubles of his own with Cassandra’s attendance. Her presence turned him into the most inept host imaginable, which made him simmer with building fury.
To his relief, whenever there was a lull in the conversation, Elly or one of the twins came to his rescue.
Even the Earl of Charfield was an asset. The fact that he was so at ease at gatherings of this kind seemed to make Elly more comfortable. She joined in the conversations more than Harrison anticipated she might the first night the guests arrived. Hopefully, this party was just what she needed to bring her into the open.
If only the widowed Marchioness of Lathamton hadn’t come and spoiled everything.
“Did you attend the race in Grover’s meadow last week, Fellingsdown?” Jeremy Waverley asked. Not only was he a neighbor, as the late Earl of Lathamton had been, but he was a close friend of George’s.
Harrison pulled his thoughts back. “No, I’d already left to come here. But I heard it was an unbelievable sight.”
“That is a monumental understatement. Without a doubt, you missed the race of the year. Roger Wilkes has an Arabian he purchased in Russia he was eager to show off. Then, of course, there was Mattenworth’s prize thoroughbred. You couldn’t have found two horses more evenly matched.”
Waverley turned his gaze to where Charfield sat beside Elly. “You were there, weren’t you, Charfield?”
“I was as close to the finish line as I could get without risking being trampled when the horses finished the race. It was amazing.”
“Everyone agreed Downing’s horse was the most remarkable piece of Arabian horseflesh they’d ever seen...next to yours and Fellingsdown’s, of course.” Waverley cast a glance from Harrison to Charfield then moved his gaze to Lady Lathamton. All eyes followed him. “Do you still have my cousin’s Arabian. Or have you sold it?”
Her arm halted midway to her mouth and she slowly set her wine glass back to the table. “I still have it.”
“If I remember correctly, your husband told me his Arabian’s dame was the famous Rouboulet.” Waverley leaned closer in his chair and gave her a magnificent smile. “Would you consider parting with him if I made an offer? Since I’m Everett’s cousin, the horse would stay in the family.”
Everyone watched as Cassandra seemed to consider Waverley’s question. “Perhaps. If the offer were right. I don’t see much need to keep Everett’s horses.”
Harrison felt the stabbing of an emotion he couldn’t explain. Perhaps anger. Perhaps jealousy. “You would sell Brigado?” he heard himself ask. “He was, after all, your dear husband’s prize Arabian. I’d think it would be difficult to part with something that was his.”
Harrison watched the color drain from Cassandra’s face and knew his words had hit their mark. He wasn’t prepared, however, for the announcement she made.
“It would be a lie if I said that my late husband didn’t consider Brigado special. But I never shared his affection. Because of a bitter aftertaste left from the rejection of a former acquaintance, anything connected with horses – especially Arabians – is highly distasteful to me.”
Harrison’s blood turned an icier cold. Cassie hadn’t known one horse from another until he’d shown her his stable. He was the person who’d given her the first glimpse into the world of Arabians and she’d fallen in love with them the minute she’d laid eyes on them. Just as he’d thought she’d fallen in love with him. Now she hated everything about them.
“It is better to sell the horse, then,” he said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.
Cassandra took a sip of her wine then lowered the glass and looked at him. She slowly turned the stem of the wine glass between her thumb and forefinger as her glaring gaze locked with his. “I agree. It is always better to separate oneself from unpleasant memories.”
Harrison tried to look away from her but for several interminable seconds no amount of effort could force him to turn his head and back down from the blade-sharp attack she’d issued.
He knew what she was doing. She’d come here as her first step in reentering society after her year-long mourning period. She’d chosen this opportunity to let it be known she was back to take her place as the widowed Marchioness of Lathamton.
She’d walked into his home as if she hadn’t shattered his every dream four years ago and left him with nothing. She’d intentionally let this be her first outing to remind him of the fool she’d made of him.
Well, she could bloody well forget it. She’d destroyed his life once. He wouldn’t give her a second chance. “Then by all means, sell the horse. You already have an offer.”
Harrison concentrated on the food on his plate and ignored the undivided attention Waverley continued to shower on Cassandra, as well as the open smiles she gave him in return.
If she’d come here to find a husband - or a lover - let her pick Waverley. Harrison didn’t care who she chose – as long as it wasn’t him.
She was a beautiful woman and wouldn’t have trouble finding someone to share her bed. The years with Lathamton had been good to her. If there was a hint of shadows around her midnight-blue eyes, he would attribute it to the strain of being out in public for the first time since her husband’s death a year ago.
If her smile did not reflect the glow of her inner beauty, he would blame it on
the lighting, or perhaps on memories of the husband she’d obviously loved and lost.
But if she thought he would give her a second chance to destroy his heart like she’d done nearly four years ago, she was sadly mistaken. He’d give her over to her late husband’s cousin, or anyone else who’d take her, before he’d go through the pain he’d endured when he lost her.
Harrison turned his attention to his role as host and did a better job of keeping the conversation active. He should be happy Elly seemed to get along so well with Charfield. He could almost make himself believe his plan to make her forget her secret admirer might work.
If only he could believe that he’d survive the next two weeks as unscathed as he anticipated Elly would.
But he already knew it was highly unlikely.
Chapter 7
When the meal was over, the women rose in a flutter and followed Patience and Lilly from the dining room to a drawing room a few doors down the hall. The men would join them later, but for now they remained to have a glass of Harrison’s fine brandy and discuss the rich hunting prospects at The Down.
Elly was never so glad to make her escape in her life. Not only was the atmosphere between Harrison and Cassie heavy enough to drown a hearty swimmer, but Charfield, instead of one of her brothers, had been the one to hover over her all through their meal.
She’d always been able to depend on one of her siblings to come to her aid if she needed help, but during dinner every bit of their attention had been devoted to their guests. Charfield had been the one to engage her in conversation. He’d been the one who motioned for her wine glass to be refilled. He’d been the one who helped her to her feet when the ladies rose to leave. She’d never felt so clumsy in her life.
Sitting and rising had always been the most awkward movements for her, but he acted as if he didn’t notice the ungainly way she rose. He even stood motionless when she got to her feet as if he realized she needed a few moments to steady herself. And the smile he gave her when he handed over her cane caused a molten heat to race to every part of her body.
Elly slowed to let the other ladies walk ahead of her.
The focused attention Charfield paid her throughout the meal had caused a rush of excitement as well as a fluttering deep inside her chest.
She hadn’t expected him to be such a pleasant companion.
She hadn’t expected him to be so adept at overlooking her disability.
She hadn’t expected to feel so relaxed around him. So excited just being near him.
And that scared her to death.
Charfield hadn’t allowed her to remain a silent observer. He’d forced her to be an integral part of the group as well as a major contributor. In this, he posed a threat she wasn’t sure she could combat.
A chill raced up and down her spine. Instead of following the ladies to the drawing room, she stepped into the room Harrison used as a study when he came to The Down, then out onto the terrace that ran the length of the house. She needed to be by herself for a minute to think. She needed to sort out her feelings and decide her best course of action.
She’d never met anyone who could unleash the emotions he brought to the surface. Never met anyone who made her yearn to share the same joys that other females experienced. Never wondered what it would be like to have a future like every other woman dreamed of having. Because for her those joys weren’t possible.
Even men who were desperate for her father’s wealth had never shown an interest in her.
Perhaps that was why she’d enjoyed her correspondence with her elusive secret admirer. Perhaps that was why she’d written to her fictitious admirer for so long before requesting they meet.
Because she knew meeting wasn’t possible.
Elly walked across the lantern-lit terrace and stared out into the garden. So what did Brentan Montgomery, Earl of Charfield hope to gain by pretending not to notice her limp?
It couldn’t be her dowry, for Charfield was reputed to be one of the wealthiest men in England. Nor could it be that marriage to a duke’s daughter would raise his worth in London society. Although his rakish character had tarnished his reputation a bit, he was still considered one of the greatest catches of the Season. And she knew why.
She’d been around him for less than one day and already she’d been drawn in by his handsome features and his charming personality. He was intelligent and witty and when he talked to her, it wasn’t about the boring things Patience and Lilly told her men talked about when they came to call.
Charfield was interested in horses, of course, as well as the stable Harrison kept, but he’d also asked her how she spent her days. When she explained that most her days were taken up running The Down, he was genuinely impressed. And interested.
He asked her all sorts of questions. If Harrison hadn’t ended the dinner so abruptly, she was sure they could have spent several hours discussing any number of topics.
She leaned her injured hip against the cement railing and let the cool evening breeze wash over her. She was enjoying herself ever so much, and for the first time in her life, she yearned for something more than the life she had here. For the first time she had to admit she was a little lonely and thought she might like having someone like Charfield to talk to. She also realized there were things she missed having. Things only a man could give her.
Which was reason enough to be wary. She would be the loser if she let herself dream of things that could never be. Her disastrous London Season had taught her that. She didn’t want to go through a similar pain again.
She breathed a deep sigh that hurt as it rushed into the open. The voice of reason shouted that every minute she spent with him put her in greater danger. That voice was right. She knew what she had to do. She’d send a message that she’d decided to retire for the night. Sleep would be difficult enough the way it was since she knew whose face would appear even in her dreams. But dreams were safer than reality.
She turned around to make her way to her rooms and stopped before she took her first step.
Charfield stood in the shadows watching her.
He leaned against the dark stone in a casual pose and drank from one glass. He held a second glass in his hand.
“Would you care for a glass of wine?” He offered her a glass when he reached her.
“How long have you been there?” She took the glass from his hand then lifted it to her lips.
“I was enjoying the view.”
“It’s dark. There isn’t a view.”
He smiled. “There is a view.”
She swallowed hard. Heavens, he was flirting with her.
Her heart raced and she prayed her shaking hand wouldn’t give away her nervousness.
“Your brother has an excellent cellar” He leaned his hip against the balustrade.
He was close. Too close.
Not close enough.
“The cellar is mine,” she answered, then nearly laughed at the surprised expression on his face. “And so is Fellings Down.”
He smiled. “I’m impressed, Lady Elyssa. I naturally assumed that—”
“...that because of its name, Fellings Down must be entailed,” she finished for him. “It’s not. It’s been in the Fellingsdown family for generations and my father generously deeded the estate to me for my lifetime.”
Charfield’s gaze never left her face as he took another slow sip of his drink.
“Was deeding you the estate your father’s idea? Or yours?”
“Mine.”
“You’re a very practical woman, aren’t you?” He set his glass on the flat stone railing.
“My mother tells me I’m a very independent woman. Too independent.”
“And what do you think?”
She couldn’t help but smile. “I think she’s probably right. Being self-sufficient has always been important to me.”
“My guess is that it’s been an uphill battle. Am I right?”
The corner of the terrace where they stood wasn’t brightly lit,
but every once in a while the clouds would let the moonlight brighten the sky. She took advantage of one of those times to study his features. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”
“Your family.”
She smiled. “Oh.”
He picked up his glass and took a sip. “Only a blind man could fail to notice how closely your brothers watch every move you make. The moment you slid to the edge of the sofa to rise, all four of them instantly came to attention. You had an arsenal of at-the-ready protectors waiting until they were certain you weren’t going to object to my assistance.”
His smile widened. “I daresay they would have rushed to your side at the slightest indication.”
She tried to hold his gaze but couldn’t. “I’m very fortunate to have such attentive brothers.”
“Have they always been so protective?”
She looked out into the shadows. Even though there was nothing to see, she scanned the horizon as if she could see the vibrant colors of every blooming flower. How could she tell him that they’d left her remarkably alone tonight? That they usually hovered over her as diligently as a mother hen over her chicks.
She tightened her grip around the handle of her cane. No, it would only elicit pity from him if he knew the reason they shielded her so. “Sometimes they forget I am quite capable of taking care of myself.”
“So you find it necessary to remind them.”
“Perhaps,” she said with a smile.
He studied her for a small second then asked a question that seemed to test her confession. “Would you stroll through the garden with me?”
Her gaze snapped to his. “I cannot.”
“Because of your leg? Does it pain you when you walk?”
She shook her head. “It’s not that. I just—“
“I promise we won’t walk far. If you tire, I’m sure we can find a bench where we can sit for a while.”
She searched for another excuse. “Being alone in the garden with you isn’t proper.”
“We’ll hardly be alone. In the short time we’ve been out here, each of your brothers has checked on you from the windows at least once. I’m sure one of them will come to find us before long. Which one do you suppose it will be?”