‘Whatever you do, don’t rush headlong into things. It may have worked for Carrie, but that does not mean it works for everyone.’
Was she rushing headlong into Ethan’s arms? If only that were true!
‘Marguerite Saxby!’ One of Marguerite’s friends from her debutante days sailed towards them. ‘It is an age since I saw you. How are you?’ The two ladies entered into a deep conversation about everyone they recalled from their come out and Petra let her mind and gaze wander. It didn’t take but a moment for her to spot Ethan dancing with a young lady. A very pretty young lady.
A pang of jealousy struck savagely behind her breastbone. She ignored it. He was the honoured guest at this party. He had to dance with as many young ladies as were introduced to him, but he had claimed her for the supper dance, the best dance of all. She clung to the hope that thought engendered deep in her heart.
‘Lady Petra, may I have this dance?’
The gentleman standing before her looked familiar. One of Harry’s friends.
He grinned. ‘Nate Weatherby, you may recall.’
‘Mr Weatherby. I’m sorry. I was wool-gathering. I would love to dance.’
It certainly wouldn’t do to dance only with Ethan. People would see it as marked behaviour and start to gossip. Not for anything would she spoil his introduction to society or his chances of making an advantageous marriage, if that was what he wanted.
No one in their right mind would consider her a good match for him. A widow with no fortune. What if he once more offered for her out of a sense of duty? Could she accept that, when she loved him so much? Could she pin her hopes on him growing to love her? Harry certainly hadn’t.
She should not have come here. She was doing what she had done with Harry. Chasing him until he had no choice but to make an offer. A sense of panic filled her. The urge to run.
‘Is everything all right, Lady Petra?’ Weatherby asked. ‘You look worried.’
She smiled the way one did in company. One did not wear one’s heart on one’s sleeve. It simply was not done. ‘Everything is wonderful, Mr Weatherby.’
They joined a set that was not yet full and she danced with all the liveliness of a lady enjoying herself, while inside her stomach was churning and her head was aching. But the more she thought about it the more she worried that she might be ruining Ethan’s life.
You ruined my life. The last words Harry had flung at her before he went off to war and got himself and two other men killed.
She could not do that to Ethan, too.
Chapter Seventeen
All evening, he’d anticipated this dance with Petra, but something had changed. Earlier she’d seemed pleased to see him, but now her smile was too bright, her laughter too brittle. And a waltz was no place to hold a serious discussion.
As the music drew to a close, she glanced up with another forced smile and dipped a curtsy. ‘Thank you, my lord.’
For a moment or two, he considered walking away. It was what he’d always done at home when Father was in one of his moods and Mother began to flutter in distress. But not this time. He was going to get to the bottom of this. If Petra was upset, then he wanted to know the reason.
He escorted her into the supper room, helped her fill her plate and then found them a table in the corner. It was not the best place for a serious conversation either, but it would have to do.
A waiter brought them drinks—wine for him, ratafia for her—and finally they were as alone as they could be in a crowded room.
‘What is making you unhappy?’ he asked.
‘What are you talking about?’ She sounded wary.
‘I believe we know each other well enough to sense each other’s moods. I cannot tell what is wrong, but I know something troubles you.’
A softness filled her expression as if he had said something that touched her heart. Then she straightened her shoulders as if steeling herself to say something unpleasant. These contradictory signals were driving him mad.
‘I wanted to apologise for doubting your word at the bonfire, about Kitty. I was wrong to react as I did.’
Now, that, he had not expected. And how did he tell her that he understood perfectly why she’d reacted that way, without revealing his knowledge of how her husband had behaved? ‘Don’t give it another thought.’
She frowned.
Clearly that was not the right thing to say. Dash it all, most of their dealings had been honest and straightforward. He wasn’t a politician to be dancing around the truth. ‘To be honest, I thought you knew me to be better than that.’
There it was out in the open, the plain truth.
She was staring at him, open-mouthed.
‘Eat your supper,’ he said sotto voce.
Mechanically, she lifted her fork to her mouth, chewed and swallowed. She gave him a bright fake smile. ‘You are right. I should have known better.’ The words were spoken with great seriousness, but something about the way she looked did not bode well.
‘We really need to talk where we cannot be overheard,’ he murmured.
‘I agree.’ She glanced around. ‘Where?’
‘My chamber.’
‘You are staying here?’
‘Yes. The auctioneers are still preparing the items in my town house for sale and they have bidders coming and going all day long so Lady Frances offered me a place to stay in the meantime. I actually think she wants to keep an eye on me, in case I decide to make good my escape.’
At that he got a genuine laugh. He relaxed. Somewhat.
‘Do you feel like escaping?’ she asked gently.
‘From here? Certainly.’
‘I meant from the Earldom?’
‘Not in the least. Much as I hate to admit it, I believe General Wellington will deal with Napoleon and his generals without the aid of yours truly, whereas Longhurst needs its Earl.’
And he planned to do the best job he could, whatever the outcome of this evening. It would be far better, though, if he managed to convince her to stand by his side.
‘Where is your chamber?’ she asked quietly.
‘On the second floor. I’ll meet you at the top of the stairs in an hour.’
When they’d finished their supper, he escorted her back to her sister, danced with the next young lady presented to him by his cousin and then slipped away.
* * *
With her heart pounding in her chest and her stomach in knots, Petra felt like a schoolgirl up to no good. What if someone saw her? Marguerite might forgive her, but Red never would. What if all Ethan was going to tell her was that he had offered for another lady? Or that he had not forgiven her for mistrusting him? Twice she almost turned back.
Once, when she made her excuses to Marguerite and again now when she set foot on the bottom stair. But then she had not come all the way from Kent and arrived at this party without being specifically invited, only to creep away quietly. If she did not meet him, she knew she would regret it for the rest of her life. She glanced around. There wasn’t a soul to see her, so she took a deep breath and hurried up to the second floor.
As he had promised, he was waiting at the top.
He kissed her, a brief hard kiss full on the lips that shocked and delighted her by turns, then he hurried her a few yards down the corridor and opened the door into his chamber. Or rather a suite of rooms. This first room was a grand sitting room, with a sofa and armchairs and beautifully polished wood. The muted dark blues and reds made it seem like a very male domain. An interior door led to another room, which she assumed must be the bedroom.
‘How very grand,’ she remarked, looking around.
‘As Earl, I am entitled to the best bedroom in the house.’
She chuckled. ‘I can imagine Lady Frances saying those very words.’
He smiled. ‘Please. Have a seat.’ He poured them both some b
randy and handed her a glass and sat beside her on the sofa. ‘We might as well be comfortable.’
Always so thoughtful.
She sipped at her drink. It was the very best brandy. She was glad Lady Frances was taking such good care of him.
He gave her a considering glance. ‘Do you want to start?’
Did she? Yes, she must. Because if she did not, she might never say what had to be said. ‘I am sorry I jumped to such an awful conclusion about you and Kitty Jenks. I value our friendship too much not to attempt an apology. You are right when you said I should have known better. I do hope you will forgive me.’ One thing she knew for certain was that she could not bear it if he now hated or despised her.
His mouth tightened a fraction. ‘I, too, value our friendship.’ He hesitated. ‘To be honest, given that you had already declined my offer of marriage, I did not understand why you would react so strongly to a young inebriated wench making improper overtures towards me as if it was all my fault.’
Somehow, he had managed to give her the perfect opening to explain. To reveal her deepest fear. If she dared take it.
She sipped at her drink, whether to grab some courage or time or a bit of both, she wasn’t sure. But if she did not take this chance to explain, how could she ever expect him to understand?
‘I was very young when I met Harry, my husband,’ she said. ‘Thirteen. He was only three years older, though it seemed a great deal more at the time. He was charming and fun and he used to talk to me as if I was the most interesting person in the world, unlike my older brothers, who could not wait to get away from me. To them I was nothing but a nuisance.’
‘I never had siblings,’ he said, ‘so it is hard for me to relate, but I can recall friends who had little sisters. They were much the same.’
‘Harry was so different from my brothers. So charming. He always took the time to speak to me. I learned later he could not help himself. There was never a female he met that he did not feel obligated to charm. But back then, I thought I was the only one. And I decided he was the man I was going to marry.’
She hung her head in shame when she thought back to how she had plotted and schemed to be in his company every time he visited their home.
‘You are a very determined lady,’ he said gently. ‘It is not a bad trait.’
She forced a smile. ‘I am not so sure. I was a spoiled brat, used to getting everything I wanted. Mama died not long after I was born and it so happened I take after her in looks. My older siblings all said I was Papa’s favourite and, truth to tell, I knew it. I used his weakness to get what I wanted.’
‘And you wanted Harry.’
‘Yes. Unfortunately for him, his father also wanted the match. He was in trade and what better way to lift the family up than by marrying into the nobility. He handed over a handsome sum for the privilege of becoming part of our family. Apparently, Harry was pushed into making me an offer.
‘I had no idea whatsoever that it was being forced on him. I was full of romantic dreams and proud of being his wife. Until I caught him kissing one of my friends at a party. Another time I found him flirting with my ladies’ maid. He laughed it off. Blamed the lady and the maid and said it would not happen again. But it did. Repeatedly.’
Misery filled her heart. She had never been good enough for Harry.
‘Finally, I accused him of not loving me or he wouldn’t be tempted to stray. He told me he had never loved me and that he wished we had never met. In fact, he said marrying me had ruined his life. The next day he went to join the army on the Peninsula, taking my brother and my brother-in-law with him. They had made some sort of stupid bet about who would make the better soldier. I should never have objected to his dalliances. He was only doing what fashionable men do. All my friends said so.’
Ethan took her hand and stroked it. Even through two layers of gloves it was a lovely sensation. Comforting. Understanding. ‘Are you saying because you confronted him with his infidelities, you somehow caused his death?’
‘If I had just let him do as he pleased, he would never have gone off to war and Marguerite and Carrie would not have lost their husbands. I swore then that I would never marry again. I was clearly not cut out to be a conformable wife.’
‘The man was a fool not to see the treasure he had won.’
Her heart gave a sweetly painful little thump. She swallowed. ‘That is the kind of thing my family used to say. But how can I believe it? I chased the man until he had no option but to offer me marriage. I spent hours in his company on our estate, yet I didn’t know him at all. He hated the country. He was only happy when in London attending balls and gambling hells.’
‘He should have told you this before you wed.’ He made a wry face. ‘I have met other men like your husband. Men who need to conquer every woman who cross their path. There are also a great many more of us who are true to their wives, you know.’
‘I know. There must be something wrong with me, that I could not keep his attention. That is what makes it so hard. Knowing if I had been a better wife, a more interesting woman, Neville Saxby and my other brother might also be alive today.’
‘Nonsense. You did everything a wife was supposed to do, not to mention that you are beautiful and clever and sweet. What more could a man want in a wife?’
It wasn’t enough. Not without love.
She shook her head miserably. ‘I do not know.’
* * *
His heart went out to her. Indeed, it was a most painful feeling in his chest now he realised how badly she had been treated, not just by her husband, who was clearly an ass, but also by her family in allowing her to marry at such a young age.
He had learned that all young people go through what was commonly called calf love. He’d experienced it first-hand with one of his superiors’ wives when he was about sixteen. He’d made calf’s eyes at her for weeks. Fortunately, she’d been kind and motherly and he had recovered very quickly. And later, as he’d matured, he’d recognised it for what it was when other recruits had gone through similar experiences.
Never had any of them married their objects of utter devotion, but then, most of those ladies had been married.
‘Petra, I can imagine Harry being flattered by your adoration and letting it go to his head. But he was three years older and three years wiser, and once he agreed to marry you he should have done his duty and been loyal to his wife.’
‘His duty.’ She sounded appalled.
Damn.
He closed his eyes briefly. ‘Ah, yes, my proposal.’
She pulled her hand from his and clasped her hands in her lap. ‘Please do not think I am expecting you to offer for me again. I am not. Nor would I accept—’
He touched a finger to her lips. ‘I was an ass.’
She kept her gaze fixed on her hands, but he could tell by the slight straightening of her back that she was listening.
He forced himself to continue. ‘I waffled on about friendship and duty and companionship when I should have told you instead what was in my heart. Petra, I grew up in a household where my father used love as a weapon. If you did not do exactly what he wanted, praise him to the skies, devote yourself to pleasing him, then you clearly did not love and respect him as you ought. He cared nothing for anyone’s accomplishments or successes unless it added something to his own. And when I fell out of favour, which was often, then I fell out of favour with my mother, too. She would whisper that she loved me, but never ever took my side against my father even when she knew I was right. Not that I was the only one to suffer because of his pride. My mother took her fair share of his temper and accusations. When I joined the army, I thought I had found a haven of peace.’ He laughed. ‘How ironic is that?’
She was gazing at him now. ‘It sounds as if you were never sure you were loved.’
‘I was not loved in the true sense of the word,’ he said f
latly. ‘I also learned to distrust the use of that word. It usually followed some sort of punishment.’
‘Oh, Ethan, here I am bemoaning that my family loved me far too much for my own good and you were deprived of even a smidgeon of family closeness. What a selfish person I am.’
He retrieved one of her hands and brought it to his lips. He wasn’t sure how he’d managed to say all of that, but her response was just what his poor bruised heart needed. ‘No. You are a person who gives love as well as receives it. Whereas I have avoided anything closer than distant friendship, or at most companionship. I thought I was happier that way. But when you told me, and rightly so, that what I offered was not enough for you, well, it made me think that perhaps I was missing something important.
‘Petra, dearest, I have been drifting through life feeling reasonably contented, satisfied by my work, sure of my honour until I met you. Then I started feeling uneasy to say the least.’
‘Oh, Ethan, I am so sorry. I had no idea I made you uncomfortable.’
Hell. That wasn’t exactly what he meant. Not at all close.
‘What I am trying to say is that, although it has taken me some time to understand what has changed, I now realise that I love you. Indeed, I am in love.’ He realised with a wince that he sounded surprised, when he had intended to sound confident and sure of himself.
She gave him a worried look. ‘You are?’
‘I am.’ He threw caution to the wind and went down on one knee. ‘Darling, I love you madly. Marry me, please.’
Her pretty face crumpled as if she was going to cry and a chill ran through his blood. She was going to turn him down. Again. He had said too little too late.
‘But I am a widow and I have nothing to bring to a marriage. And what if you tire of me and look elsewhere for companionship? I wouldn’t be able to bear it.’
He took her in his arms and held her. ‘It cannot happen, because I really, truly love you. You have all my heart, my love. There is nothing left for anyone else. I promise.’
An Earl for the Shy Widow Page 22