To Romance a Scoundrel

by Rosie Wynter

  “Ah, there you are Claire,” the Duchess of Lynch said, putting down the hand of cards she was studying. She picked up a glass of brandy that stood on the side table beside her, and took a sip, her eyes sparkling. “Even though you do remind me of myself in my youth, with your admirable thirst for knowledge, you are making an awful habit of hiding yourself away where no one can find you. I hope you are not doing such a thing just to torment our poor earl here. I would not like to think of his having to go out looking for you every evening to ensure you are still on the property.”

  Claire took a deep breath and gave an unmistakably forced smile in response. “You needn’t worry about me, Aunt. I know not to go wandering the grounds after sunset. In fact, I was just readying myself to return to the house when Lord Dalton and dear Catherine came to fetch me.” Claire’s eyes darted to the earl for a moment, and she seemed to waver. “Of course, I... I am grateful that you took the time to look out for me, my Lord. I would not want you to think that your concern for my safety was unappreciated.”

  “No need to explain,” he assured.

  The Duchess of Lynch and Grace exchanged knowing looks that served to heighten Claire’s irritation. The slight curve of their lips, those smug smiles, they irritated her to no end. As much as she was beginning to enjoy the attention and company of the earl, she was quite sure she could do without her relatives smirking and exchanging telling glances between one another whenever she so much as spoke to him.

  “Well, now that we are all together, could we persuade you to join us in our game?” the Duke of Cromford asked. He gestured to the three empty chairs set out. “I am afraid the Duchess of Lynch has us all held to ransom in this game, and we will need more players if we are to reset the cards and unseat her.”

  Catherine smiled and walked over to a chair at once. Claire remained in place, trying not to let her eyes return to the earl. He had mentioned getting to know her better, and she hoped they would have time to talk as he had promised. It would be hard for such a conversation to happen if they were tied to the card table and concentrating on a game. Besides, Claire had played her aunt enough times to know that no one could best her. The Duchess of Lynch had spent a prodigious amount of time learning cards since her husband’s death, and was a consummate master of any game that gentlefolk liked to play. To engage her in cards for an evening was to throw the evening away.

  “Sadly, I have to decline,” the earl said at last. “I really should look over my sketches for the new wing and make some alterations.” He turned to look at Claire, an affable smile on his face. “Miss Curtis, you were asking before about my vision for the new wing. If you still wish to, I could show you my designs while I work on my sketches.”

  Claire felt a flutter inside her, and her body seemed to bristle as though a bolt of lightning had surged right through her. She was quite sure her face had flushed and that the temperature in the room seemed to have risen a few degrees. For a short moment, her eyes brushed Grace and her aunt, but she quickly turned away and forced herself to ignore them. She knew well enough that the two would be trying hard not to be grinning from ear to ear right now, as they sought to play matchmakers. One look at any hint of a smile, and she would likely reject the earl simply to spite her two meddlesome relatives.

  “I would be happy to see your sketches, my Lord,” she said. “Perhaps we could look them over by the fireplace with some tea?”

  “I would like that. If you will give me a few moments, I will gather my work and join you.”

  Claire looked to the maid, who nodded in understanding. The woman moved to fetch a pot of tea for her and the earl while Claire moved over to the fireplace. There were two chairs set up there near a small coffee table. Claire cleared away the book from the table and then, with nothing else to do, began to fuss with her dress, flattening out the creases of the light blue fabric. She noticed some dirt had attached itself to the hem of her dress and she tried to remove a few such flecks as best she could. The whole while, she could feel her sister watching her. She prayed that Grace would not stare at her for the entire evening. Knowing there were eyes on her would unsettle her. As much as there needed to be someone keeping an eye on their conversation, as a matter of propriety, it bothered her to think that her sister and aunt would be monitoring her every move, judging her speech and how she spoke. She would have to remember to speak quietly, so that neither could hear her.

  The earl returned about the same time as the maid arrived with tea. He held a bundle of papers in his arm and laid them out on the table in a haphazard manner. He picked up his pen but seemed to struggle to decide which drawings and sketches were most important to begin his alterations, and Claire smiled as he rifled through the documents. There was something quite endearing about seeing the man’s disorganised manner when it came to his paperwork.

  Sitting down in one of the chairs, Claire gazed at the intricate and detailed drawings. The earl had a definite eye for detail and drew his designs with precision and deft care. She could see few indications of erased lines or mis-beginnings in his drawing. His pencil lines were bold and dark on the page, each feeling definite and certain. Every now and then, Lord Dalton would add to the drawing behind him. He drew straight lines without the aid of a ruler, his disciplined hand never wavering.

  “How did you learn to sketch so neatly?” Claire asked. “I can scarcely draw the outline of a house without having to redraw the lines several times over and make corrections.”

  “An eternity of practice,” the earl answered with a smile. It was not a smug smile, more one of friendliness and satisfaction – as though the work itself gave him joy. “When I settled my mind on devoting myself to architecture, I did not wish to treat it like some hobby to play around with and then discard when I became bored of it. I wanted to put my all into my work. Believe me, I went through a lot of paper and ripped up a lot of poor sketches before I was able to draw as I do now.”

  “Your dedication to your craft is exceptional,” Claire said, with no hint of artifice in her voice – she was genuinely impressed. “If I may enquire: just how did you come to take an interest in architecture? I hope I do not sound at all insulting when I say this, but it is not exactly common for a member of the peerage to take on a trade.”

  The earl looked up, his eyes shining in a way that captivated Claire. His gaze seemed to speak of utter joy at being able to speak of his passion with her. She could almost feel the quiet pride radiating from him. It was a most pleasant sight, and she leaned forward in her chair, to ensure she didn’t miss a word of his answer.

  “You say it is unusual, but it is not altogether unheard of. Tell me, Miss Curtis, have you ever heard of the Earl of Burlington, Sir Richard Boyle?”

  Claire’s brow furrowed as she tried to think. “I confess, the name is familiar, but I cannot recall where I have heard it mentioned before. Is this man a friend of yours?”

  “I suppose you could call him a friend of the family, but this was in the time of my grandfather. He died in 1753, quite a time before you and I were born. He was a man of great vision and had a profound interest in the arts. His principle love, however, was for architecture and design. Lord Burlington was responsible for an architectural revolution in his day, setting the trend for Palladian design in British architecture. In his early years of work, many in the peerage spoke condescendingly of him, grumbling that it was not right that a man of his station should dishonour himself by taking on a trade.”

  “Without wishing to disparage the ruling classes, I can picture it well,” Claire said. “It is perhaps unjust of me to paint all nobility with one brush, but you do not see many lords deigning to do menial labour. I even remember one such man in London, who refused to help his driver when the wheel of his carriage came clean off. There was nothing to be done and the driver needed the help of several conscientious citizens to help move the damaged vehicle to a place where it could be repaired. However, the lord actually remained sitting in the carriage the entire time,
not seeming to know what to do with himself. Imagine the arrogance, forcing others to carry him like that.” Claire realised a little too late how her voice had risen. She had drawn the attention of the card players and she blushed when her aunt fixed her with a look. “I am sorry – I did not mean to become so piqued.”

  “No, it is quite alright,” Lord Dalton said. He put out his arm as though he were about to take Claire’s hand in reassurance. He seemed to stop himself at the last moment, however, and instead picked up his pencil and returned to his drawing. Or, perhaps he had always meant to reach for his pencil and Claire had just hoped he would take her hand instead. He continued to add new details to his designs, his lips pressed together and his eyes narrowed as he worked.

  The earl continued on. “You are not wrong to be so critical of the upper classes. While I know many fine gentlemen of rank who would happily muck in with their servants when needed, they do not make up the majority. There are far too many dukes, barons and minor lords who would rather cut off a limb than be seen helping their servants, or to undertake anything that might be considered a trader’s work. As I said, the Earl of Burlington encountered much derision and prejudice during his career.”

  “How did things end for Lord Burlington?” Claire asked, fascinated by the story the earl was weaving for her.

  “I am pleased to say his ending was a happy one,” Lord Dalton said with a laugh. “Lord Burlington’s vision and designs were recognised for what they were – sublime. Even the lords who mocked and scolded him for his work could not deny his genius. Soon enough, Lord Burlington found himself involved in designing and creating works up and down the country in his Palladian style. He went from being a pariah amongst the peerage of England, to one of their most esteemed and respected members.”

  “A good ending to a good story,” Claire said. “But, the Earl of Burlington must have been quite extraordinary. I cannot imagine how he managed to see to the work of his own estate and lands and still design grand works that could inspire a whole new form of architecture.”

  The earl smiled a little and took a deep breath. Claire liked the way his chest swelled, and the definition of his muscles that showed a little beneath his shirt. “While the earl is a hero of mine, I cannot lie and say he was a perfect man. His love of architecture and interest in the arts and music made him... distractible. He had little time for the offices and duties expected of him. He was fortunate that his mother had a good head on her shoulders. She looked after his estate and was responsible for the day-to-day running of his affairs. Without her, it is likely that Lord Burlington would never have been able to pursue his dreams and vision so fervently. Or, knowing his character, from what my grandfather said of him, it is possible that Lord Burlington would have destroyed his family’s name. He was obsessed with his work and designs. Without his mother running the day-to-day concerns of his estate, I am sure he would have let things deteriorate and fall apart around him as he worked on his design and visions.”

  Claire nodded in understanding. “I have heard that many who lean towards artistry and creation have trouble keeping their minds on day-to-day needs. I have even heard that some writers and poets forget to eat, unless first reminded by a conscientious person.” A playful smile grew on Claire’s face, and she bit her bottom lip as she wondered if she might risk teasing the earl a little. “So, what of you, Lord Dalton? Do not tell me you have copied your hero’s example and forced your mother to look to the running of your estate.”

  “Sadly, my own mother died when I was very young. I am pleased to say that I have never looked to force my work and duties on to my step-mother, or indeed any other relative. Even if I were able to do such a thing, I would not wish to. As much as I enjoy my work as a designer and even a builder, I do also enjoy the work and responsibility given to me by my rank. I care for the well-being of my tenants and those who live on my land.”

  “That is no understatement,” Grace’s husband George chimed in from across the room. His interjection indicated to Claire how loud their talk had become. “Lord Dalton is as good a landlord as any you could ask for. He even found a novel way to combine his work as earl, with his love of architecture.”

  “It was nothing more than a trifle, really,” Lord Dalton said. His eyes looked to Claire for a moment, as a little suggestion of colour grew on his cheeks.

  “No, please tell me, I am fascinated,” she assured him. “If you won’t tell me, then I will have to ask my brother-in-law to tell me the story.”

  “You know I will exaggerate and make you feel even more uncomfortable,” Cromford spoke from the card table. “Dalton has even been known to help his tenants in the upkeep and renovations of their own dwellings and farms. When he first began to show an interest in architecture, his father let him work with the local labourers to restore a dilapidated barn for one of their tenant farmers. I believe his father hoped the hard work and toil would put him off his ambition. It ended up having quite the opposite effect.”

  The earl’s eyes seemed to be looking far away into the middle distance, no doubt caught in the pleasant memory of his youth that the duke had recalled. He gave his friend an appreciative nod. After a few seconds however, his attention returned to Claire and he coughed, the smile leaving his face.

  “I do not wish to have the Duke of Cromford paint me as a saint, however. While I concede I have done work to ensure my tenant’s homes were improved upon, it was done as much to satisfy my own desire to create and build, as it was to help those in my charge.”

  Claire nodded – a soft, almost proud smile on her face. “It is not a crime to enjoy doing good deeds for others, my Lord. Just because you gained knowledge and joy from helping your tenants, does not take away from the nobility of your actions.”

  “Thank you, Miss Curtis. It is pleasing to hear you say so.”

  For a moment, there was silence. Claire’s eyes locked with the earl’s and neither seemed able to draw their gaze away from the other. She felt her breathing become unsteady as she looked at him. Her mouth became suddenly dry. She felt an inexplicable draw towards the man at that moment. It was not just some vague feeling. She actually thought she could feel some actual power drawing her close to him, pushing her body to move closer to his. She retained the presence of mind to resist, however. It was far too early a time to be harbouring such dangerous thoughts and desires for the earl. Beyond this, there was the ever-present knowledge that Grace and her aunt were watching her every move.

  Clearing her throat, Claire tried to find something else to latch her attention onto. At last, she found the teapot and noticed the empty china cups before her. “Might I refill your cup? I have had you talking for so long, your throat must be very dry.”

  “Oh, yes... That would be quite lovely.”

  Chapter 5

  “So, forgive me if I am wrong, but I would say Lord Dalton impressed you more than a little last night.”

  There it was. Claire had been waiting all morning for her sister to make the inevitable comment on the conversation she had enjoyed with the earl. To Grace’s credit, she had been very good to wait as long as she had. She had held her tongue all through breakfast and kept her own counsel when doing embroidery in the breakfast room. It was only once they decided to take a stroll in the afternoon sun together, that she dared to mention the earl or the semi-private colloquy that Claire had enjoyed with him the previous night.

  “You know Sister, I would take care in trying to tease and goad me on that subject,” Claire said “Aunt Lynch feels very strongly that you shouldn’t be allowed to wander the gardens at all now in your delicate condition. If I should add my voice to hers in expressing concern, I am sure your husband could be persuaded to lock you inside and not let you out to enjoy the air.”

  “Oh, what cruelty to threaten me like that,” Grace laughed. “I suppose you have learned a thing or two since living with our aunt. You certainly have gained a little more skill for dissemblance and guile. Still, you forget that my dear
husband has a good head on his shoulders and is not easily manipulated. You do not scare me with your taunts, so I shall continue to ask my questions about Lord Dalton as I see fit.”

  “Pooh, and here I thought I had you.” Claire gave an exaggerated sigh, and then both women fell into laughter. Claire recovered first, looking up at the sky with a smile on her face. “I will confess, I have missed having you around, Grace. While we always could drive one another mad, I do feel just a little empty when you aren’t around to torment me with your teasing.”

  “And I miss watching you devour books and never putting them back on shelves when you are done with them. Honestly, it has been one of the strangest things living here. Every time I go into the library, I expect the books to be out of order and stacked in mad piles on the tables. It is unnerving to see them always stacked correctly, their spines unbroken from constant use.”

  “Well, I promise I am doing all I can to try and change that,” Claire assured. “I have devoured a book a day since my arrival, but your husband’s servants have this annoying knack of putting the stories and novels away before I have a chance to make any real mess in the library.”

  “But we are going off topic again, are we not?” Grace said, wrapping her arm about Claire’s and patting the back of her hand. “Really, sister, I would so like to know how your feelings towards Lord Dalton have changed since your arrival. I know you will think I seek only to toy with you with such questions, but, truthfully, I am dying to know what your opinion of the man is, especially after last night. Seeing the two of you laughing and talking together so earnestly... I hoped what I saw between you was not some figment of my imagination.”