Entangled with the Earl (Tangled Threads Book 1)

by Lisbette Tomas

  Apparently he’d been mistaken.

  At least the combination of the ride along with the routine conversations that always greeted him when he returned from Parliament helped clear some of the fog. The expected congratulations were offered and received at each stop he made but that was the only deviation from the normal litany of concerns and comments he heard each year.

  Allsworth could — and did — handle this for much of the year but Martin insisted on a visit with each tenant at least once a year and found it made the most sense to do so after he’d been gone for Parliament. It helped center him back on what was important after the time in the city, away from the land and people who were the heart of his responsibility. The honest hard work was a welcome contrast to the empty glitter of Society parties.

  Normally it didn’t feel like quite as much of a burden.

  Stop. Focus. Remember what the Duke taught you. He could picture his grandfather as he had been, posture ramrod straight as he met with his estate manager each morning. The Duke never took notes at those meetings but somehow always remembered what was discussed, a skill Martin had envied. It had taken years before he trusted his memory enough to do the same.

  Taking a deep breath of the cool morning air, he straightened. Knowing Allsworth, none of what he would report back would be a surprise and the man would already be well equipped to deal with it. His competence was both a blessing and a curse, as right now Martin would much prefer to bury himself in a distraction.

  If that’s true, then why are you feeling so trapped by your responsibilities? The quiet voice was back. He ignored it. He just needed to get back to feeling more in control, something that had been sorely missing since his first dance with Teresa. That was what routine was good for — grounding him.

  Frustrating as the previous evening had been, he had to admit he admired her refusal to compromise what were clearly dearly held principles. She showed more spine than half the gentlemen of the ton and that deserved his respect. If it weren’t for the obsession driving him to the point of madness, he would be happy to back off completely and give her the space she clearly desired.

  The obsession wouldn’t tolerate that though, not when her body clearly responded to his like it had the night before. The sooner he could get her into bed, the better for his sanity. Just as clearly, she wanted some demonstration from him of his willingness to trust her. Loath as he was to revisit any of the mess his parents had left him, perhaps an edited version of the truth would suffice.

  The more he considered the idea, the more sense it made. There hadn’t been enough time for rumors to circulate before their marriage, but it was possible that by the time they returned to London in the spring, some of the older members of the ton would have resurrected the old gossip. By telling her some of it, she would be prepared to deal with any possible rumors — and Society didn’t know of all the scandalous details, which would make it easy enough to omit the worst of it.

  Besides, it’s better to do something than to sit and wait for the world to decide in your favor. He felt more in control already with a course of action in front of him; more like himself. The breeze against his face felt refreshing, rather than a reminder of how much longer it took summer to establish itself this far north.

  For several minutes, he let the landscape fly by as he gloried in his temporary freedom. Most of the farmed land was closer to the small hamlets along the road, with the hills used for grazing. Eventually though, the hills grew higher and he tugged on Ares’s reins, reluctantly dropping him back to a trot as they neared the grounds immediately surrounding the estate. There was no sense in risking the horse with a gallop, not with the rocky paths here.

  A flash of color in the corner of his eye caught his attention and he turned, pulling Ares up as he shaded his eyes to try and get a better look. Sunlight flashed on gilt-gold hair and he realized he recognized both the horse and those tumbling curls. “Teresa!”

  At the sound of his voice, she turned and looked around. Spotting him, she raised her hand to wave back a greeting before looking back down and gathering her reins as if to move on. Martin frowned and urged Ares down along the path, catching up with her.

  At the sound of his approach, she looked up again — a coolly blank expression on her face. She wore a different riding habit today, this one a dull red that reflected color into her cheeks, much like her gown had the night before. He tried to put that thought out of his mind.

  “Where’s your groom?”

  “I didn’t bring one.” Her expression didn’t change, all cool politeness. Her Society mask, he realized, much like the one he donned when dealing with the ton. “The servants told me you were going to be visiting a tenant until supper.”

  A chilly reception but not undeserved. Still, it stung to be shut out, especially since he knew the intelligent woman under the mask. “The visit took much less time than I anticipated.”

  “Clearly.” Her tone made it clear that she found that explanation doubtful but was too polite to challenge it directly. “Please don’t let me delay your return home, as I’m sure you must be hungry. It’s been quite a while since breakfast.”

  He might not have a lot of experience with women but even he could tell that he’d dug himself a rather deep hole, at least as far as Teresa was concerned. His pride stung a little at that, wanting to insist that she had been the unreasonable one. He stuffed it back down, well aware that it would not improve matters.

  “I don’t mind the delay.” He reached out to catch her arm before she could move aside to let him pass. “Actually, I was hoping for the chance to speak to you, since I owe you an apology for last night.”

  Whatever she had expected him to say, that clearly wasn’t it. For a moment, the surprise was enough to allow the mask to slip and he could see the wariness and hurt hiding behind the cool civility before it fell back into place, serene and expectant.

  For some inexplicable reason, the hurt hit him like a punch to the gut. Blinded by his fog of lust and need, he hadn’t thought about how his actions would appear to her. Suddenly it was more than just wanting to convince her to join him in bed. He needed to ease the hurt just a little, give her a reasonable explanation and find a way back to the easy conversation they’d shared before.

  “You’re right to think you deserve my trust as my wife.” He looked down, suddenly unsure of the next words to say and feeling like the world was spiraling outside of his control again. “The only explanation I can offer is that there is a family history which makes that trust difficult, but that is not your fault and you don’t deserve to be punished for it.”

  Her voice was quiet. “I have no intention of betraying your trust.”

  He managed to keep the bitter laugh from escaping, but barely. “People rarely intend to. But hiding from the past won’t change it and there are still enough people in the ton who remember the story that you should know it too.”

  “And so you intend to share it with me?” Some of the ice had thawed from her tone, but not all.

  “I do.” He looked down at Ares, who was waiting patiently now that he had had a chance for a run, but would need to be rubbed down soon. “The conversation might be more comfortable over lunch, though?”

  “I suppose.” She reclaimed her arm and gathered her reins in her hand. “In an hour, then?”

  Martin considered what would need to be done to arrange lunch. “An hour sounds excellent. I’ll meet you in the conservatory.”

  Chapter 21

  Teresa sighed as she looked over her morning dresses and finally settled on her favorite, a muted blue-gray that always felt calming. The morning ride had not produced the hoped-for calming effect, but that was more from the company she had encountered than the ride itself. Martin was the last person she had expected to run into and seeing him had undone nearly all the work she had done to settle her emotions, even before he had surprised her with his apology.

  Now she wasn’t sure what to feel, beyond gratitude that he had lef
t her alone to ride back to the stable at her own pace. Something had changed between them last night, the shape of which she had almost understood. Something else had shifted this morning and she had much less idea of what it was.

  At least he’s willing to tell me something of himself now, even if he’s only doing it so I don’t find out from the gossips. A small step forward, if not the one she had hoped for. Still, if he was as loath to trust people as she had every reason to believe, that small step represented a start.

  Miriam finished fastening the buttons and Teresa nodded her thanks as the girl slipped soundlessly back into the dressing room to tidy up another mess left by Teresa’s indecisiveness. It rankled that she was having so much trouble deciding. Part of her wanted to make another entrance, emboldened by her success the night before, but common sense and comfort won. Until she knew how the consequences of last night would play out, it made little sense to throw more wood on the fire.

  Martin was alone when she entered the conservatory, bent over the workbench with several potted plants before him. His hair was damp and his clothes fresh, the outfit of a country gentleman at home for the day. Servants had set up the table for two in the corner again, a bottle of wine sitting next to an arrangement of cheese, apples, and pastries. He looked up at her arrival and offered a bow, moving to pull out a chair for her.

  Teresa sat and looked expectantly at him, ignoring the food. He took the other chair, clearly considering how to begin. Finally, he took a deep breath and cleared his throat. “Understand that most of what I’m telling you comes secondhand, as most of it happened before I was old enough to be aware of it.”

  “Since it concerns your parents.” She had figured out that much after the conversation with the tenants the day before.

  “Yes.” He took a moment to pour wine for both of them but left the food alone. “From what I’m told, my mother was considered the catch of the Season. She was young, beautiful, the daughter of a Duke with a dowry to match. When the charming young Earl of Carlington waltzed in and swept her off her feet in a whirlwind courtship, she couldn’t help but fall in love. It was declared the match for the ages. Their wedding was considered the social event of the year.”

  Teresa blinked back her surprise. Of all the scenarios she’d considered, the idea that his parents had been a love match like hers hadn’t even crossed her mind.

  “Unfortunately, it didn’t take long after the wedding for the fairy tale to unravel. My father was more in love with his own pleasure than he was with my mother, if he loved anyone other than himself at all.” Martin’s opinion of his father was clear from the bitterness in his voice and Teresa couldn’t fault him. She wanted to reach out and touch him, somehow offer some comfort. Of course, Martin wouldn’t accept that he needed any, even if she did. “Once my mother was pregnant with me, he began spending most of his time and money out on the town, making it clear that he had tired of his bride already. The final straw came when he was seen taking his new mistress to the theater.”

  “Your poor mother…” Teresa couldn’t imagine that betrayal, coming from someone who professed love. Her pain must have been immense. Martin merely snorted.

  “My ‘poor mother’ retired back to her father’s estate for my birth, at which point she sent word to my father that as he now had his heir, he was barred from her bedroom. As soon as it was clear that I was healthy and thriving, my mother left me with her father and returned to London to set up her own household. She entertained frequently and it was a well-known secret that she had her own stable of paramours.”

  The fury of a woman scorned, Teresa thought. Although some of the bitterness had leached out of his tone, it was clear that Martin felt no sympathy for either parent.

  “The next time I saw her, she was dying. A fever of some sort. The housekeeper sent for my grandfather when it became clear she wasn’t going to recover, but she never woke up. The ton was split on whether she received her just reward for refusing to quietly accept my father’s conduct or if she had instead died of a broken heart. My father, for his part, did remember to show up for the funeral — but he was completely foxed. It was the first time I met him, although I have no recollection of it. My grandfather was so livid he could hardly speak.”

  Even after three years in the ton, the idea that two people would behave with so little care towards the child they had produced shocked Teresa. No matter what the provocation, she couldn’t imagine abandoning her child like Martin’s mother had. Her hands balled into tight little fists in her lap and she was suddenly grateful that his parents were dead, as she wasn’t sure she could have refrained from telling them exactly what she thought of their callous disregard.

  Martin didn’t seem to notice her reaction. “My father left me in my grandfather’s care and returned to London to continue his life in pursuit of idle pleasure. His neglect and demands for higher rents to support his lifestyle drove the estate into financial ruin.”

  “So that’s why you lived with your grandfather.” She’d known the Duke had raised him, but not the reason why.

  Martin nodded. “He considered it his responsibility to see that I received an education befitting my rank and responsibilities, so that I could be more of a gentleman than my father. Thanks to that, I was at least somewhat prepared when my father passed away shortly after my twenty-first birthday and I inherited both the title and the mess he’d made of the estate. That was almost ten years ago.”

  That was still recent enough that Teresa couldn’t understand how she had never heard a word of it. The ton relished this kind of scandal, happy to gossip about every aspect in excruciating detail. Even if it had faded somewhat after his mother’s death, his father’s funeral and Martin’s debut would have revived it. “I had no idea.”

  Martin shrugged, clearly not surprised. “It’s old history for most of Society. They learned long ago that I offer little sport. It’s less fun if I fail to respond to snide comments — or worse, agree with their assessment of my parents’ lack of character. Given how little time I spend in town anyway, it’s only logical that they’ve moved on to other targets.”

  In her experience, lack of response wasn’t sufficient to convince the ton to move on — but she hadn’t had a title or the ability to escape the city. Maybe those factors would have made a difference. She rather doubted it.

  “I have no intention of reviving the gossip, which is why I don’t talk about this with anyone.” He looked up to meet her eyes again. “However, you were right. I should have told you about this before. I’m sure they’ve already had a good laugh at the irony of our marriage. Goodness knows I made no secret of the fact that I thought love a foolish emotion when I was at Oxford. It’s possible someone would decide to dig up the old scandal to let others in on the joke.”

  “At least you’ve told me now.” Teresa sat back, wrapping her arms around herself as she tried to sort through everything Martin had shared. Her heart ached for the young, confused boy he must have been at his mother’s funeral, abandoned by both mother and father and considered a responsibility more than a child.

  Martin leaned forward and picked up one of the pastries, taking a bite before putting it on his plate. “I owe you another apology as well.”

  The words were so unexpected that it took Teresa a moment to process them. “For what?”

  “I pushed you last night, something I shouldn’t have done as a gentleman.”

  Teresa’s spine stiffened. “No, you shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have let things go as far as they did either.”

  “Teresa, there was nothing wrong with what we did. I don’t regret showing you the pleasure your body can give.” His voice was earnest as he reached out and captured her hand with his. For the first time she wished herself back in London, where she would have at least had the defense of gloves between them. The feel of his skin against hers reawakened memories of the night before, memories she’d tried her best to bury with reason and logic.

  Her only saving grace
was that so far, Martin seemed unaware of just how susceptible her body was to his touch. He certainly didn’t seem to notice the havoc that small contact was wreaking on her ability to think. “My error was in assuming that what we shared meant you were willing to climb into my bed. You have my word that won’t happen again. Indeed, none of it will happen again unless you ask me to.”

  Even after all their conversations so far, Teresa still found herself surprised by the way intensity could flare in his voice, like it did now. His eyes were a brilliant green, focused on her face and for a moment she felt like she was drowning in them. It was all too much. She tugged her hand back and grabbed a pastry, hoping to forestall any attempt to reclaim her hand.

  Can I trust him? She didn’t know enough, not yet — but he had opened up to her, more than she would have expected given what he’d just revealed about his childhood. And his apology was sincere, of that she was sure.

  “I can accept that.” She caught the relief as it flashed across his face and held up her hand. “As long as you can accept that trust takes more than a simple promise.”

  “I’d be a fool to think otherwise and I’d like to think I’m not a fool.” Martin’s smile invited her to share in the jest.

  “Only occasionally foolish.” Teresa smiled back to take the sting out of the words. “But maybe if we spend more time together, that could change.”

  A moment’s silence as Martin took a bite of his apple and swallowed before answering her. “It’s hard to say where each day’s business takes me, but I can promise to join you for dinner every evening. You would be welcome to join me in the library afterward — that’s where I typically have spent my evenings reading.”

  Teresa tried to keep the flush out of her cheeks as she remembered the previous night’s encounter in the library. It was so tempting to swear she couldn’t possibly join him in the library again. But he promised, the rational side of her brain pointed out. If you’re going to trust him, you need to trust him in this.