A Secret Passion

by Sophia Nash

  “So, you punished him in the only way he cared—you spent his fortune. It took you five years, but you did it.”

  “Well—it didn’t take five years, it took a little more than one year,” admitted Jane’s brother with embarrassment.

  “But then what did you all live on the last four years? Oh, wait, let me guess. Cutty Lovering’s money?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “And Jane knows nothing of all this?”

  “No,” responded the young man.

  “You allowed your father to marry off your sister to an old man to pay for your debts? Yet you have the temerity to say you have been punishing your father?” he asked with anger.

  “Yes, well. Appearances are everything to my father. Old Puff Guts has the audacity to want to become part of the prime minister’s cabinet. I’m very sorry for Jane. More sorry than I can say. I had no idea he would have Jane marry Cutty to get himself off the hook. I had thought Jane’s beauty would assure her a good marriage, and so she did not enter into my considerations.

  “But at least Cutty was an old family friend. One of Jane’s favorite people in the world. I do not think she minded much marrying Cutty. He was at least better to her than our father. And now she is to be a rich lady. She will find her happiness with you,” he challenged Rolfe.

  “You seem so certain for one who has brought so much dishonor and unhappiness to your family. And how can you be so sure your father killed your mother?”

  “Well, why did he not disinherit me or disown me when I spent our fortune years ago? I’ll tell you why. It is guilt.”

  “I am ashamed for you and for your father. I will discuss with him your circumstances. For now, I will have your solemn promise not to exceed the monthly stipend I have allowed for you. Not a farthing more shall find its way to your pockets. And if you ever do decide to ‘punish’ me or any member of your family again in a similar fashion, I will have you shipped to India to work in my family’s tea holdings. Do you understand?” Rolfe grasped the young man’s chin and tugged, forcing Theodore to look him square in the face. “Furthermore, I task you with figuring out a way to atone for your ill-natured deeds. Have I made myself clear? There will be no second chance with me.”

  Chapter Eight

  ROLFE’S carriage made its way toward the entrance of the Fairchild estate in Cornwall. His mood had not been improved by the heat and the dirt of the journey. He did not feel very charitable toward any member of the Fairchild family, and in his darker moments he hoped Jane was as upset as he was angry.

  A lone footman emerged from the brightly lit small mansion as the carriage approached. He held up a lantern to aid Rolfe’s descent. As the carriage creaked out of sight toward the stables, Rolfe inquired about the ladies of the house.

  “They be at supper, my lord. There are guests with them from the manse,” replied the footman. He proceeded to mount the stairs to the entrance. “But who may I say is calling, my lord?”

  “There’s no need. Mrs. Lovering is expecting me. I shall present myself,” he said, tapping his cane on the doorframe.

  He moved through the doors as the footman trotted to keep up with him. Faint laughter guided his steps toward the double doors past the entrance hall.

  Rolfe entered the dining salon and encountered a remarkable number of young people at table. He had expected an ailing minister and maybe a wife. But here was a jovial scene with much laughter, which stopped abruptly as he walked in, save for one errant giggle from a particularly silly-looking girl.

  The table featured two young men and four young ladies in addition to Jane and Clarissa. The giggling chit modeled a strange garnet-colored hat with five butterflies dancing in the black netting. He stared at the young woman.

  “I am delighted to see you again, Lord Graystock,” Clarissa said after she had recovered her manners. She stood up and offered her hand to Rolfe. “I’m so sorry, we were not expecting you so soon. You have caught us celebrating the birthday of Miss Dodderidge. Please allow me to present to you Miss Thompson and her sisters, Miss Fanny, and Miss Sarah along with Miss Dodderidge, of course, who is wearing a gift from the Thompson family,” she added, smiling. After he nodded curtly to each of the ladies, Clarissa continued, “And this is Mr. William Thompson, and his younger brother, Mr. Harrison Thompson.” To the gathering, Clarissa sobered. “May I present to you all, the Earl of Graystock?”

  The murmurings of proper greetings were executed along with the requisite curtsies and bows. Then quiet enveloped the room.

  Jane ventured to look at him. He was elegantly attired in a blue dress coat, snug-fitting doeskin pantaloons, and highly polished white-tasseled Hessians. He had removed his highcrowned beaver hat and was holding it under his arm. He looked the veritable bridegroom surrounded by a roomful of country cousins! She had lowered her gaze to her lap after the momentary shock of seeing him walk through the door. While she had known he was to appear at Land’s End on any given day, she had not been prepared for the embarrassment of seeing him again. Furiously, her mind worked at her predicament.

  Jane had not told Harry about the earl, even after she had received the letter, because she had not wanted to further complicate matters. She had hoped that luck would be on her side, at least this one time in her life, and that she would be safely married to Harry before he arrived. She had very much doubted he would “fly to her side.”

  She had also avoided the topic with Clarissa, who had surely received the same effusive prenuptial letter from her father as Jane had. She had rebuffed Clarissa’s two attempts at discussion, calling her father’s plans “ridiculous.”

  The earl apologized stiffly and said he would retire to the rooms prepared for him before rejoining them all after dinner. He refused Clarissa’s insistence that he join them at the table.

  As he departed, Jane motioned to a maidservant and asked her to provide a hot bath for the earl and a tray in his room. She had not said a word to him, nor had he once looked at her.

  Upon his departure, a general buzz circulated around the table. “Who is he? Why is he here? How long is he to stay? And is he married?” were questions asked by the people from the manse. Clarissa responded, as Jane was unable to speak.

  Jane had never known that Clarissa had such an excellent capacity for evading the truth with half-truths and out-and-out bounders. Clarissa had the good-hearted temerity to explain that his lordship was here from London to oversee the selection of several new horses for his stable. He was the special guest of Lord Fairchild, and in his absence Clarissa had been asked to prepare for the earl’s visit. To Miss Dodderidge’s delight, she answered that Lord Graystock was indeed not married. The three young ladies from the manse fairly cooed in appreciation.

  “Oh, what a fine addition to our local society,” murmured Lillian Thompson.

  “Did you say he has over thirty thousand a year? That’s almost unheard of,” remarked Fanny.

  “A fine catch indeed,” added Miss Dodderidge as she removed the winged headpiece.

  “Aye, indeed—that’s if you want to be murdered in your own bed,” responded William Thompson with a wink.

  A general roar met his statement, which required William to explain his outrageous remark. “When I was in London years ago, I overheard two mamas at Almack’s talking about the infamous Earl of Graystock. They called him a murderer. He apparently killed his wife in cold blood, in her bed. She had been carrying the unborn child of her lover, and in a jealous rage he killed her. The mothers said that they wouldn’t introduce their daughters to him if he had two hundred thousand a year…”

  Jane raised her head in shock. “That can’t be true, Will. Lord Graystock might have an unpleasant character, but surely he did not murder anyone, especially a defenseless woman.”

  “Now, Will, we will have none of that kind of talk at this table. Not when the earl is a guest here. My brother would be provoked by your remarks,” added Clarissa.

  Harry burst out laughing. “Suit yourselves, b
ut don’t say my brother didn’t warn you, when we find you all stiff as doornails, dead in your beds.”

  “Harry, you must guard against misjudging people. Please remember that the earl is my brother’s acquaintance,” responded Clarissa with anger. It had the desired effect of making everyone stop talking about the gentleman in question.

  As gaiety was restored to the mood of the party and a strawberry tart was served in Miss Dodderidge’s honor, the general banter resumed regarding Harry’s plans for the fall.

  “But I thought you were going to go on that exciting exploration tour of Mexico,” said his favorite sister, Fanny.

  With a look toward Jane, Harry shook his head. “No, no, my plans have all changed. I will do that another year. I have applied for the position of assistant to my old professor of Sciences at Oxford. With any luck, Mr. Melure will take me.”

  “But why are you giving up your trip? It was to be such an adventure. Something you dreamed of for so long,” said Fanny.

  “Yes, I know. But this too is an opportunity not to be passed up,” responded Harry, darting another glance at Jane. She could feel a blush creeping up her neck as she tried to turn the subject.

  “Why don’t we all remove to the front room?” she suggested, standing up to signal the end of the meal. She had lost her appetite when the earl entered the room, and now Fanny’s comments were leading her even further toward indigestion.

  The game of charades was in full swing by the time the earl appeared in the main salon of the house. Surprisingly, he agreed to participate in the game without hesitation. He joined the team comprising Jane, Mr. Harry Thompson, Miss Dodderidge, and Miss Fanny, who had lost their first two rounds. Mr. Thompson on the other team urged him to be the pantomime for the next round. With solemn face, Graystock accepted the challenge. After choosing one of the folded pieces of paper in the crystal bowl, he opened it and stared at the scrap of paper for a full minute.

  At the prompting of Clarissa to start the pantomime during the two-minute allotment of time, the earl dropped to his knee in front of Jane, grasped her hand, and looked at her.

  Jane’s heart raced as all her worst imaginings took over. He was about to propose to her, publicly this time, ruining her plans with Harry.

  “Why, it appears that his lordship is on the point of proposing… is the word ‘wedding’?” Miss Dodderidge tittered.

  “How about ‘love’?” Harry jumped in.

  “How about ‘madness’?” queried Fanny with a giggle.

  The entourage laughed heartily. He shook his head and then removed his signet ring and slipped it onto Jane’s finger before she could draw her hand away. The large gold ring swam warmly on her ring finger. She could see the Graystock crest of a knight and slain dragon on a domino background imprinted on the dark bloodstone. This was the ring he had used to seal the wax on the letter she had received. Suddenly the scene began to swim before Jane’s eyes, and she excused herself as she ran from the room.

  Rolfe watched her leave. The laughter died away, and an awkward silence filled the room. William Thompson coughed once.

  Miss Dodderidge fanned herself and preened. “Perhaps, you could do the pantomime with me, my lord,” she giggled.

  Harry Thompson glanced at him and the door once or twice.

  “I beg your pardon, miss, but I believe we must forfeit,” Rolfe replied. “The word you were all to guess was ‘proposal.’ “

  “Your time has expired, my lord,” Clarissa responded. “And your team has lost another round.” She offered the crystal bowl to William next. As that gentleman began his pantomime, Rolfe left the room quietly to avoid notice, if that was possible.

  He took the front hall steps two at a time, disregarding the footman’s glance. It was easy to determine which room was Jane’s, as a slight flicker of light emanated from beneath the closed door in the otherwise darkened hallway. Furthermore, he could hear sounds when he cocked his ear to the door. He knocked and heard a cessation of noise, and then the rustling of feminine skirts.

  From beyond the door Jane responded. “Yes?”

  “I want to speak to you,” he replied in an urgent whisper.

  “My lord, we have nothing to discuss. Leave me in peace.”

  Rolfe sighed and shook his head. “Jane, don’t be difficult. Please open the door.”

  “It is unseemly for you to be trying to enter my chamber. Now please go away,” hissed Jane.

  Rolfe leaned his body against the doorframe and crossed his arms. “I will not go away until you open this door. I am happy to wait here all night if necessary.”

  Before Jane could respond, a second set of footsteps could be heard running up the stair. Rolfe moved from the doorway into the shadows beyond the windowed alcove in the hallway.

  A young man, one of the two gentlemen from the manse, tapped on her door and whispered, “Jane? Jane, are you all right? It’s me.” Jane opened the door just wide enough for her to look both ways down the long hallway.

  “I’m fine.”

  “What the dickens? Why did you run away? And where is the earl? The footman informed me that he went racing up the stairs. I was afraid for your safety,” Harry said, out of breath. “You didn’t let the bounder in, did you?” he continued as he tried to peer inside her room.

  “No, of course not,” she replied as she pushed him back, stepped out of her room, and closed the door.

  “Come on, Duck. Tell me?” Harry asked.

  “There’s nothing to tell…Oh, Harry, please let us return to the salon and try to appear that everything is normal. I’ll explain it all in the morning.” She linked her arm with Harry’s, and they walked down the hall toward the stair. As she moved away, Rolfe moved forward to hear her last words, “Meet me next to the footbridge on Mr. Gordon’s property before church tomorrow. Will you?”

  “Of course.”

  Rolfe turned to Jane’s door and hesitated before opening it. A pale blue muslin dress with various undergarments lay on a beautiful old bedspread. A small leather trunk lay open on the floor next to a pair of riding boots and a hat. The earl frowned and closed the door before moving to his own chamber.

  Even a simpleton could see that she planned to flee. As Rolfe strode to the bureau and poured cool water into the white porcelain basin, he wondered where she would go. Obviously she could not go to London, or to Littlefield. Did she have some remote cousin or boarding school friend she would go to? It was preposterous. She was behaving like a trapped fox, chewing off her chances for a decent future. He was prepared to give her a life of ease and luxury. One she and her family could ill refuse. But when he eyed his harsh features in the dull mirror before him, he hesitated. She clearly fancied the young gentleman from the manse. He sighed and wondered again why he put himself through this aggravating exercise. Since when had he played by society’s rules? Oh, yes, maybe once long ago. But that was a long, long, long time ago.

  Jane arranged the dark folds of her riding habit around the sidesaddle as she headed toward the footbridge. Her horse could sense her stiff, uneasy state of mind and reacted accordingly by nervously tossing its head. Dismounting, she looked anxiously on the other side of the bridge to see if Harry had arrived. But she knew no one would be there. Harry was late on all occasions.

  “Hello, Mrs. Lovering,” the earl said as he came up behind her.

  Whirling around, Jane felt herself blush. “Lord Graystock… Sir, you surprised me.”

  “I can see that.” The earl tapped the side of his boot with his riding crop as his gaze bore into her eyes. “Jane, I am loath to make small talk. You will tell me now what is going on here. And why are you avoiding me?” Graystock insisted as he moved to within inches of her.

  “I am not.” She looked at the ground as she was overcome by the intensity of the earl’s eyes. “Well, maybe I am. But I do not want you here. I told you in Littlefield that I would not marry you. I don’t know why you insist on persevering.”

  “Perhaps it is because I am
a gentleman. And gentlemen are true to their honor. Jane, I must marry you. And you must marry me. Or are you impervious to all sense of propriety?”

  Jane looked around the earl toward the bridge. In vain.

  “He is not coming,” Rolfe said.

  “Whatever do you mean?”

  “A note was sent to the manse explaining that you were unable to keep your engagement with Mr. Thompson.”

  “You did what?”

  “It is not appropriate for a female to meet a gentleman surreptitiously.”

  “By your reasoning, it is inappropriate for you to be here now. I am not engaged to you, nor am I answerable to you, my lord.”

  “I will not force the issue. I shall give you time, Jane. But I urge you to choose your path with care. And I ask for your word that you will not run away from your problems. That is the coward’s way, you know. Your problems will only follow you wherever you go,” he said with one eyebrow arched.

  “I shall not promise you anything. But I do assure you I am not a coward, my lord.”

  “I had not thought so. Now, please tell me you will not leave Cornwall without a word.”

  Jane looked at the ground, and her heart pounded with confusion. She was angry and flustered that he had managed to guess her plans.

  The earl took the last step toward her and lifted her chin with the warm cup of his hand. The intensity of his steel-colored eyes unnerved her. With a rush, his lips met hers, softly and then more firmly as he folded her into his body. Jane did not resist his embrace, as she felt numb from the shock. He stroked the side of her breast down to her waist with one hand while exploring her mouth. Jane realized that she was holding her breath, and inhaled sharply as he deepened the kiss. It stunned her to feel and smell his masculinity again.