Historical Trio 2012-01

by Carole Mortimer

  Sir Rufus once again looked less sure of himself. ‘I had thought, with Mrs Wilson’s permission, to invite Miss Thompson to come on a small walk with me.’

  Nathaniel snorted. ‘It is my understanding that after yesterday Miss Thompson has no wish to go anywhere with you ever again. Is that not so, Miss Thompson?’ He turned to Elizabeth, his brows raised in arrogant query.

  Elizabeth was aghast by the level of tension that now filled the room; Mrs Wilson’s eyes were wide at her nephew’s rudeness, Letitia actually open-mouthed with astonishment, Sir Rufus’s redness of face giving every appearance that he might actually leap forwards at any moment and administer a fist to Nathaniel’s chin. As for Nathaniel himself…

  She had never seen him so chillingly, dangerously angry as this before, not even yesterday when he had discovered her in Sir Rufus’s arms. Indeed, he looked as if he would welcome an attack from the other man, just so that he had an excuse to retaliate. If he actually needed an excuse, of course…

  Elizabeth turned to look coolly at the red-faced Sir Rufus. ‘Lord Thorne is perfectly correct in his claim, sir. I am suffering from a slight cold today.’

  ‘So there you have the refusal straight from Miss Thompson’s lips, Tennant,’ the earl said.

  The other man’s mouth thinned with displeasure. ‘I am sorry to hear that you are feeling unwell, Elizabeth,’ he bit out. ‘Perhaps I might call upon you again tomorrow?’

  ‘I—’

  ‘That will not be possible, I am afraid, Sir Rufus,’ Mrs Wilson put in smoothly. ‘In view of my nephew’s return to health, and the sad associations here at present, I have decided that all of my London household shall return to town tomorrow.’

  ‘Tomorrow?’ Sir Rufus spluttered in protest. ‘But—Miss Thompson, too?’

  ‘Well, of course Elizabeth shall come too.’ Mrs Wilson, obviously now as tired as her nephew was of Sir Rufus’s boorish company, was less than patient in her reply. ‘She is a part of my London household, after all.’

  For the moment, Elizabeth added silently, knowing that situation could not continue for long after they had all returned to town. Indeed, given the circumstances, she considered it generous of Mrs Wilson to allow her to return to London with her at all; many employers in the same situation would have cast her out without thought for how she was to find the means or money to travel back to London.

  Sir Rufus scowled. ‘Then perhaps I could be allowed a few moments in which I might talk alone with Miss Thompson?’

  Elizabeth felt her heart sink even further as the cold, contemptuous expression on Nathaniel’s face turned to a look of utter violence. ‘I—’

  ‘No, I am afraid Elizabeth cannot be spared even for a few moments if we are all to be in readiness to leave tomorrow,’ Mrs Wilson took it upon herself to answer the man swiftly. ‘I am sure you understand, Sir Rufus?’ The steely edge to her polite tone said that he had better.

  He made no answer for several long moments, as his good sense obviously warred with his dislike of being denied that which he wanted. Thankfully good sense finally won out. ‘In that case I will take my leave of you, madam.’ He bowed awkwardly to his hostess, blatantly ignoring every other person in the room—including Elizabeth—before sweeping from the parlour. Only seconds later the front door was heard to slam with some force behind him.

  An uncomfortable silence settled over the inhabitants of Mrs Wilson’s parlour, Elizabeth barely able to breathe as she waited for someone to speak, feeling unable to do so herself after what had just happened.

  ‘Well!’ Mrs Wilson was predictably the one to break that silence—although her next comment was not the one Elizabeth had been expecting. ‘What a perfectly obnoxious man Sir Rufus is!’ She repressed a shudder of revulsion. ‘Indeed, I always had my suspicions that as a boy he was the type to enjoy pulling the legs from spiders and wings off flies!’

  ‘Aunt Gertrude!’ Nathaniel’s shocked laughter was completely spontaneous as some of his tension eased.

  His aunt patted the already-perfect neatness of her hair, completely unabashed at having criticised a guest in her home so roundly. ‘You did not know Rufus Tennant as a boy, Nathaniel. He was only eight or nine years old when I first came here with my darling Bastian and he was a stocky, unattractive lad even then. He was absolutely hateful in his behaviour towards that brother of his, who was so much younger than he.’

  ‘Giles,’ Nathaniel put in.

  ‘Just so,’ his aunt said. ‘He was jealous, of course, having been an only child for the first six years of his life. Of course, it cannot have helped that Giles was of such a sweet and good-natured temperament that he succeeded in charming all who came into contact with him. Or that he grew up to be such a golden-haired, attractive rogue.’

  Nathaniel frowned. ‘I had always believed the two brothers were close?’

  ‘Publicly, yes. Here in the privacy of Gifford House? Another story completely,’ Mrs Wilson revealed. ‘And then, of course, Giles succeeded in captivating the admiration and love of the woman every man of the ton panted after.’ She gave an inelegant snort.

  ‘Harriet Copeland…’ Nathaniel murmured ruefully; even now, ten years after the event, he recalled that married lady’s legendary beauty. He had been considered far too young at the time to be acquainted with that lady himself, of course, but he had occasionally caught glimpses of her as she’d glittered and sparkled at society balls, a dark-haired, sea-green-eyed beauty who had captured the attention of every man who so much as looked at her.

  That had been before society was shaken by the scandal of Harriet Copeland leaving her husband and young family to set up home with Giles Tennant, resulting in it turning its backs and closing its doors upon both of them.

  His aunt nodded. ‘They were so very much in love with each other. But obviously the…oddness that characterises Sir Rufus’s personality must have existed inside Giles too, otherwise how else could he have behaved so abhorrently in the end?’

  Elizabeth had become very still at the first mention of her mother’s name. Indeed, she could not move, barely breathed, and there was also a tightness across her chest at finally hearing that Giles Tennant had, after all, been the young lover of Elizabeth’s mother ten years previously.

  ‘I trust that you will forgive me for ever encouraging you to enjoy the attentions of a such a man, my dear.’ Mrs Wilson turned to gently squeeze Elizabeth’s arm in apology. ‘I had believed that the years might have improved his temperament, but you were obviously far more astute than I where his true nature was concerned!’

  Elizabeth had been in the right of it in deciding she did not like the man very much, perhaps, but that astuteness counted for nought now that she knew about the past connection of Sir Rufus’s family to her mother. As she was left wondering why Sir Rufus would ever have wished to name a rose after the woman who was responsible for bringing such disgrace upon the Tennant family…

  ‘I—yes, of course. Would—am I really to return to London with you tomorrow, Mrs Wilson?’ She frowned, wondering what, if anything, she should do about the information she now held.

  ‘Yes, Aunt Gertrude, what was all that about?’ Nathaniel asked. ‘I had thought it was your intention to remain in Devon for several more weeks?’

  She gave an airy wave of her hand. ‘I have not found being in the country as pleasant as I had hoped; as your health was our main reason for coming here at all in the middle of the Season, there seems little reason for any of us to remain when you are to leave tomorrow. Especially when one of our closest neighbours has proved himself to be so unpleasant,’ she added indignantly.

  Those reasons were all well and good, but at the same time they totally negated Nathaniel’s own reason for leaving Hepworth Manor—namely to put a distance between himself and the temptation Elizabeth represented.

  The pallor he could now see in her cheeks would seem to indicate she was as shaken by this sudden decision to return to London by her employer as Nathaniel was himself
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  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘You did not seem particularly overjoyed earlier by the news you were to return to London with my aunt tomorrow?’

  Elizabeth had excused herself from Mrs Wilson’s parlour earlier on the pretext of packing her few belongings in preparation for the journey back to London in the morning, but instead of that she had collapsed down weakly onto her bed as soon as she had closed the bedchamber door behind her, still uncertain as to what she should do now that she knew for certain that Giles Tennant had been her mother’s lover. She also still pondered the strangeness of Sir Rufus’s previous intention of naming his rose in honour of Harriet Copeland, when he should have positively loathed her.

  To return to London, without so much as speaking with Sir Rufus again, meant Elizabeth would be leaving behind the one man who might be able to answer some of those questions. But contrarily she had no idea, after the awkwardness of Sir Rufus’s departure earlier, how she was even to go about meeting him again, let alone bringing the conversation round to such a delicate subject as his brother’s tragic death.

  For Nathaniel to now intrude upon such confused thoughts was far from welcome. ‘Your aunt would be most displeased if she were to find you in my bedchamber for a second time today,’ she pointed out firmly.

  ‘Then we must ensure she does not.’ He stepped further into the room and closed the door quietly behind him. ‘I thought you came upstairs with the intention of packing?’ His pointed glance took in the fact that the bedchamber remained much as it had when he had been in here this morning; a brush-and-comb set sat on the dressing-table, Elizabeth’s nightrail and robe were draped across the chair and the open door of the wardrobe revealed that her few gowns remained hanging there, several pairs of slippers placed neatly side by side in the bottom. The fact that she had been sitting on the bed when he entered was further evidence that she had made no effort as yet to begin packing anything.

  She stood up abruptly. ‘I felt a little unwell again once I had arrived here, so I sat down to rest for several minutes.’

  Nathaniel studied her between narrowed lids; there was no mistaking that her cheeks were still very pale, or that her eyes were a dark and pained blue. ‘You do still look far from well.’

  Elizabeth turned away from his probing gaze. ‘It is merely a cold accompanied by a slight fever.’ She pushed the tendrils of hair from a forehead that had become damp as she gazed out of the window and realised that she could actually see the smoke curling from the chimney tops of Gifford House, visible across the hillside in the next valley. So near and yet at the same time still so very far away…

  ‘Perhaps you should, after all, allow my aunt to call on the services of a physician?’

  ‘No, I am sure that will not be necessary.’ Elizabeth turned away from that tantalising glimpse of Sir Rufus Tennant’s home. ‘May I say once again how sorry I was to hear of Midnight’s passing,’ she added gently.

  The earl’s face closed. ‘Would that it had been as peaceful as you make it sound, but I am afraid it was not an easy or pleasant death.’

  Elizabeth winced. ‘Do you have any idea what might have been the cause of it?’

  ‘Nothing has been confirmed as yet, no,’ Nathaniel replied.

  She blinked. ‘But you have your suspicions?’

  ‘Perhaps,’ he said evasively. ‘Finch will continue to look into the matter after I am gone.’

  ‘Can it be you suspect one of the grooms of some misdemeanour?’ she pressed.

  ‘If that’s the case, then Finch will have his head on a pike.’ And Nathaniel would have the rest of him, preferably sliced and diced on the end of his sword, for daring to cause such a magnificent stallion even one moment of pain.

  Elizabeth looked sad. ‘I really am so very sorry.’

  He gave a tight smile. ‘You are not to blame, Elizabeth.’

  ‘Well. No. Of course I am not.’ She frowned. ‘But I am sorry for it, none the less.’

  Nathaniel had no doubts about the kindness of Elizabeth’s heart; he had seen that kindness time and time again during their time together. Indeed, it was one of the reasons he found it doubly difficult to resist her dark and arresting beauty.

  If she had been less kind, less intelligent, less beautiful, then Nathaniel knew he would not have found himself constantly drawn to be wherever she was. As it was, even now, sick at heart as he was over Midnight’s death, aware his aunt was already suspicious of his interest in Elizabeth, he had not been able to stop himself from coming up to her bedchamber to be alone with her one last time.

  He sighed. ‘I doubt we shall see much of each other once we are returned to London. I will be going to Osbourne House and you will be in my aunt’s home.’

  ‘No,’ Elizabeth confirmed huskily, having realised as much after Mrs Wilson’s announcement earlier.

  Much as it pained her to think of not seeing and being with Nathaniel again, she couldn’t help feeling it was perhaps for the best. There could be no future in such an attraction. Nathaniel was the wealthy and eligible Earl of Osbourne; while Elizabeth realised that, as he was friends with her new guardian, they were destined to meet again one day, the fact that she was really the impoverished daughter of the deceased Earl of Westbourne and the notoriously scandalous Harriet Copeland would make her no more acceptable as a match for Nathaniel than she had been as the young companion of his aunt.

  ‘Although I believe you may be being over-optimistic in assuming that I shall accompany your aunt to her home there,’ she said now. She smiled wanly. ‘I am afraid that Mrs Wilson has been far from pleased with my behaviour today.’

  ‘Your behaviour?’ The earl scowled. ‘I am the one who has come to your bedchamber. Twice!’

  Elizabeth nodded. ‘And, as a mere servant rather than a close family member, I am the one who will be dismissed.’

  ‘If you truly believe that to be the case—’

  ‘I do,’ Elizabeth interjected.

  ‘Then I will speak with my aunt.’

  ‘I wish you would not! Please do not,’ she repeated less forcefully. ‘It is unnecessary to involve yourself when I have already told you that being a lady’s companion does not suit me.’ Elizabeth had, in fact, decided that it was time she returned to her home in Hampshire.

  Running away from Shoreley Park and from the offer of marriage from Lord Faulkner, to seek her freedom and possibly romantic adventure in London, had not turned out at all as she had expected; there could be no freedom when she had little money with which to support herself, and the only romantic adventure she had encountered was to be pursued by one man she did not care for and another whom she found she cared for far too much.

  No, she could not think about her tangled feelings for Nathaniel now if she were to conduct this conversation with any degree of decorum. ‘I have decided it is time to return to my home.’

  The earl looked intrigued. ‘Which is where?’

  Elizabeth gave a slight smile. ‘Not in London, certainly.’

  Nathaniel found he was not in the least pleased that Elizabeth might leave and disappear off to God—or he—knew where. Which, he realised, was probably the whole point…

  He crossed the room to stand before her, looking down into the delicate beauty of her face. ‘I do not like the thought of not seeing you again.’

  A flush entered the previous paleness of her cheeks as she avoided meeting his gaze, instead concentrating on the buttons of his waistcoat. ‘I am sure, once returned to London and your…friends there, that you will quickly forget Elizabeth Thompson ever existed.’

  It had certainly been Nathaniel’s intention to do as much. To enjoy the uncomplicated charms of a willing woman and satisfy his physical needs, before seeking out his friends Westbourne and Blackstone. Neither of those activities held the same appeal when they would be done in the knowledge that Elizabeth was no longer resident at the home of his aunt.

  ‘Perhaps—’ Nathaniel broke off with a frustrated growl.

&nbs
p; ‘Yes…?’ Elizabeth looked up at him shyly.

  He was grappling with the dilemma of allowing Elizabeth to leave his life against the equally unacceptable alternative of offering her the role of his mistress. The first option he found painful to contemplate, the second was just utterly distasteful to him… He was damned whichever course he took.

  And so he would do neither. ‘I believe I shall miss you,’ he said instead.

  Elizabeth smiled sadly. ‘My sharp tongue, perhaps.’

  Remembering the things this young lady had done with her tongue only yesterday was reckless on Nathaniel’s part. As soon as he did so the heat that coursed through him caused his shaft to harden and throb uncomfortably…

  Madness. Utter and complete madness to even think about when he and Elizabeth had made love together!

  He stepped away. ‘Perhaps,’ he conceded. ‘As no doubt you will notice the absence of my own tendency to tease you at every turn.’

  Elizabeth knew she would miss so much more than his teasing once she had departed Mrs Wilson’s household. That she would long for so much more! But there was nothing else to be done. Elizabeth must return to Shoreley Park, to the company of her sisters, and as soon as was possible, so that she might share with them all she had learnt concerning her mother’s involvement with the Tennant family.

  ‘No doubt,’ she answered Nathaniel softly. ‘And who knows, perhaps we will meet again someday?’

  He could not see how, when the two of them occupied completely different spheres in society.

  ‘Now, if you would not mind, I believe it is time I began my packing?’

  As dismissals went he acknowledged that Elizabeth’s was suitably polite, if all the more final because of it.

  ‘So it is,’ he agreed with a small smile. ‘If at any time in the future, you are in need of help or assistance—’

  ‘No, that simply will not do, Nathaniel,’ she cut in with a firmness of purpose.

  ‘Then if you are ever in need of a reference, perhaps—’