An Earl for the Broken-Hearted Duchess

by Lucinda Nelson

  She became aware of a thousand things at once. The quickness of their mingling breaths. The breeze tousling her hair. The time that had passed since they’d left the estate.

  And how much she cared for him.

  Margaret put his hands against his chest. Her throat felt thick with emotion. An emotion she couldn’t name.

  Her voice was but a croak. “I-”

  “Please do not say you regret it,” he begged, in a voice that cut right through her.

  Her breath rushed out of her. She looked down at where her fingertips rested against his chest. She watched them touch his collar and shook her head softly. “No,” she whispered. “I-I do not regret it, Nathaniel.”

  ***

  Lord Nathaniel Sterling, Earl of Comptonshire

  Their return to the estate was quiet. Words could not express what had just happened between them, nor could words make sense of what was ahead of them.

  Though he knew that he wanted her, he did not yet know if she truly wanted him. And perhaps most pertinently, he did not know if it was possible for anything more than friendship to exist between them.

  She was a widow, still in the midst of her mourning period, with a son and a scandal to accompany her name. While he was only an Earl. An Earl for a Duchess? A truly fanciful idea.

  But these were things he could not yet think of. Not while he was still reeling from their kiss. When he’d found himself kissing her, he’d come to his senses in an instant.

  He’d expected her to jerk away from him, or to deny him as she’d done before. But after a mere moment of being frozen in his embrace, her fingers had tangled through his hair.

  And every fibre of his body had come alive.

  They dismounted their horses in silence. This time, her stable hand assisted her and he was green with envy.

  He wanted to relive that moment with her atop the hill a thousand times over. And he had this terrible fear that if he left, he might never be so close to her again. What they had was so unbearably delicate.

  When they returned to the estate, Ezra was waiting for them. He smiled when he saw Nathaniel and greeted him enthusiastically, which was returned in equal measure, though his mind was elsewhere.

  “I have seen Lady Reed’s dogs, my Lord!” Ezra exclaimed. “Oh, you must see them. Do come see them.”

  Nathaniel smiled down at him, but shook his head. “I would love to, dear fellow, but I am afraid I have some early meetings today. But I will surely come again tomorrow.”

  Ezra expressed his disappointment, but was glad to see Nathaniel before he departed, as his mother had expected.

  “You must be the good Lord Sterling,” came a voice from the drawing room. As the gentleman spoke, he stepped out into the hall. He was a handsome fellow, with an impish face.

  “Lord Nathaniel Sterling, this is Lord William Brandon,” Margaret said. It was the first she had spoken since the hilltop. Her voice was delightfully raspy.

  Lord Brandon extended his hand and shook Nathaniel’s. As he did so, Nathaniel felt the gentleman’s eyes pass over him from head to toe.

  And not entirely welcomingly. He looked between Lord Brandon and Margaret, with a sour feeling in his gut. “I am a friend of the Duchess,” Lord Brandon said, in a strangely pointed tone that gave fuel to the fire of his worry.

  “A pleasure, I’m sure,” Nathaniel said, with equal stiffness. “Perhaps we will meet again,” he said, though he sincerely hoped they would not.

  At last, having bid Lord Brandon and Ezra a good day, Nathaniel turned to the Duchess. She stood near the door, watching him.

  How he wanted to kiss her again. He wet his lip with his tongue and felt her keen eye on his mouth.

  But he didn’t kiss her. He only took her hand and kissed it.

  “I will return tomorrow,” he said, in a quiet voice. “For Ezra, if you wish it?”

  It felt like an eternity before she spoke.

  “Yes,” she murmured. “And… perhaps for me as well.”

  Chapter 15

  Lady Margaret Abigail Baxter, Duchess of Lowe

  In Nathaniel’s absence, Margaret leaned back against the door as if her legs could no longer hold her upright without assistance.

  She was reliving the moment Nathaniel had kissed her and could see, smell and feel it all with such vivid clarity that she lost sight of where she was and who she was with.

  “You seem fond of him,” William said. His voice cut through her daydream and her eyes opened. She hadn’t even realized she’d closed them.

  Now, feeling rather embarrassed, she pushed away from the door and brushed an invisible wrinkle from the skirt of her dress.

  “He is a good man,” Margaret said, in an attempt to sound apathetic. But William was having none of it. When she attempted to pass him in the hallway, he touched her shoulder to give her pause.

  They stood alongside one another with their faces turned, as though they were about to tangle in a brawl… or in a dance. It was a moment that was unpleasantly charged, that made her frown deeply. “William? Are you unwell?”

  There was such coldness in his eyes. And something else that looked almost like pain.

  His hand fell away from her shoulder. “Quite well,” he assured her, though he did not sound it. “I have only realized that I must be on my way. I have been invited to dine with a Lady and Lord I met in town.”

  “But William-”

  “Good day, Your Grace,” he said, before she could press him any further.

  Blinking in a daze, she watched him depart with a heavy feeling in her heart and a lost look on her face.

  She was not accustomed to William being anything but amicable, mischievous and kind. It was odd to see him behaving so coldly, but couldn’t imagine what might be bothering him, as something so clearly was.

  Perhaps, it had nothing to do with her and he only needed some space. She could certainly understand that.

  Once William had left, Margaret felt the feeling she’d dreaded come upon her. William’s strange behavior had knocked her out of her enchantment, leaving her with a feeling of panic and nauseous worry.

  What had she done? What had she allowed him to do?

  She wrung her hands and gnawed at the inside of her lip so fitfully that she soon tasted blood.

  She saw herself as others might, if they only knew what had happened.

  A Duchess. Allowing an Earl to kiss her, when she was not yet out of her mourning period.

  A Duchess, scorned by her husband, who now allowed an Earl to kiss her, in a bid for what? Attention? Love? A sense that she was more than the cuckolded bride of a Duke?

  Oh, how the word would spread, when she’d only just escaped scandal. Would they have to move again when Ezra was just beginning to settle?

  And if Margaret recovered her wits and refused to see the Earl again, what then for Ezra? He could not bear to lose another man.

  Within an hour of William’s departure, Margaret was in such a state that she could hold the tears back no longer. She left the estate, for fear that her son might happen upon her, and walked until her ankles were sore.

  She was ashamed. And could no longer see the truth of it.

  All she saw was a pitiful woman, desperate to be loved by any man who might try.

  ***

  Lord Nathaniel Sterling, Earl of Comptonshire

  “What nerve you have!”

  Nathaniel had not been expecting company when he returned to the estate. But mere moments after his arrival, his parents had come.

  Their timing could not be more abysmal, because his mind was still awash in the Duchess.

  He looked out of sorts when they appeared, like a drunkard trying to figure out what was happening around him and making a poor job of it.

  “Father,” he answered, as he still fought to clear the thick fog in his mind. “Why have you come?”

  “Why have we come? Why?” The vein in his father’s temple was throbbing purple and his face was a scorching red. Nath
aniel watched his mouth touch his forearm in attempt to calm him, but he snatched it away.

  “When your mother and I go to the effort to secure a meeting for you with an eligible woman, you cast her away as though she is dirt upon your boots! How dare you, foolish boy!”

  The fog was clearing. To be replaced by a haze of rising ire. “I have told you I will not marry on your terms,” Nathaniel reminded him, in a voice that was becoming tighter and less forgiving.

  He would not be spoken to in such a way, not even by his father. He was not a boy anymore.

  “You will marry on whatever terms I determine, if you are to be Earl.”

  “I will remind you that I do not want to be Earl. My hand has been forced.”

  If his temper had been a sizzle upon arrival, it was now a wildfire. When he spoke again, he shouted. “You ungrateful boy!”

  “I am no boy,” Nathaniel said, with marked calm. He looked at his father steadily. “And I will not speak of this until you can do so calmly.”

  This only angered him more. His father took a sudden step towards Nathaniel, as though he meant to throttle him, but Nathaniel’s mother caught his wrist and pulled on it to keep him still. “Oh my dears, please do not fight,” she begged of them. “See reason, I beg of you.”

  “Reason? It is he who will not see reason! He thinks he can live in a fairytale, where all that he wants is delivered to him. We all must make sacrifices.

  And you are a childish fool if you loathe taking a wife so much that you will risk our line. What do you hope to maintain, Nathaniel, by remaining a bachelor? Some false sense of independence?”

  “As I said,” Nathaniel repeated, firmly but calmly. “We will speak of this when you are ready to be amicable.”

  With a truly thunderous expression, his father clenched his teeth as though he meant to say something more.

  But nothing came. With a noise of utter rage, he turned and stormed out of the estate, with his wife close at his heels begging him to see reason.

  In their absence, Nathaniel stood still and staring at the door for some time.

  At length, his lungs deflated and his shoulders slackened. He thought of the Duchess, of his parents and their expectations.

  The combination exhausted his already tired mind. Because the fact was that he wanted the Duchess more than he’d ever wanted anyone… and he didn’t know if he could have her.

  Chapter 16

  Lady Margaret Abigail Baxter, Duchess of Lowe

  William did not come the following morning, as she’d so hoped he would. She wanted to see him in a less solemn mood and she could do with a distraction from thoughts of Nathaniel’s imminent presence that afternoon.

  At first, Margaret was not sure if he would come. Perhaps he regretted their kiss. Perhaps he never wanted to see her again.

  But when her son joined her in the drawing room at noon, smiling from ear to ear in expectation of Nathaniel’s arrival, she knew that he was too good a man to disappoint Ezra on the grounds of regret. He would come. She was certain of it.

  Waiting on his arrival was torture. She was in a terrible state by noon. So much so that even Ezra seemed to notice.

  After sitting with her for a few minutes, and trying to engage her in exciting talk to no avail, he put his tiny hand on top of hers. “Mother,” he said. “Are you okay?”

  Even now, when Nathaniel was nowhere to be seen, she felt him wrapping himself around her heart. Because he had revived her son of his love, his kindness and his happiness.

  But just as easily as he had come, her selfishness could take him away. And where would her son be in his absence?

  “I am well, my love,” she assured him and squeezed his hand.

  Ezra smiled. “The Earl will cheer you, I am sure.”

  Margaret smiled in turn, though her features were unsure.

  It was then that she heard Nathaniel’s arrival. But he was not alone. Beside him, Miss Wilde stood looking like an English rose in full bloom.

  She brightened the estate with her hair, her eyes and her smile, and made Margaret feel almost bland in her presence. “Miss Wilde,” Margaret said, as she stood. “It is a great pleasure to see you again.”

  But why was she with Nathaniel? Did they spend much time together outside of the schoolhouse? These questions were a plague upon her mind.

  “Miss Wilde kindly suggested that Ezra might like to take a lesson in archery at the schoolhouse today, if it pleases him?”

  Ezra nodded vigorously. “Oh yes, I would very much like to learn!”

  “We have a marksman gracing us with a visit,” Miss Wilde said, in a sweet voice. “And he has offered to spend some time teaching you today, upon the Earl’s request.”

  Ezra was entirely overwhelmed by the prospect. He stood up on his crutches. “Might we leave now?”

  Margaret smiled and touched his neck gently. “We needn’t be in such a rush, my darling.” She assured him, but he couldn’t stand still for all his excitement.

  “There is a carriage waiting outside,” Nathaniel said. “Only, there is only the space for three and I wouldn’t want to leave your mother behind. I thought we might follow on foot. Your Grace?”

  At last, Margaret allowed herself to look at him. There was a question in his eyes that went far beyond the one he was asking her. “Of course,” she said. “I could benefit from a walk.”

  He inclined his head in silent thanks, while Miss Wilde led Ezra to the carriage and helped him inside. Margaret and Nathaniel walked behind them, listening to Ezra chat up a storm.

  “She’s ever so kind to him,” Margaret murmured, with a smile in her voice. As much as she might envy Miss Wilde for her ability to love the Earl so easily, she was grateful to her for making an effort with Ezra.

  “She has quite with children,” Nathaniel answered, as he nodded. There was a quietness about him today that she was not accustomed to.

  It was clear that there was something on his mind and she was at once desperate and terrified to know what it was.

  They walked for a few minutes in silence, taking in the sun and the smell of the grass as they passed. Flowers were blooming around the path, lighting their way with splashes of color.

  “Margaret,” he said, and her name was like sugar on his mouth. She wanted to kiss it from him. “There is something I would like to say.”

  If only her heart would slow. It was raging in her ears.

  “I know that our circumstances are not ideal,” he said. His voice was slow, as if he was still gathering the right words, though Margaret was sure that he was not the sort of man to say anything of importance without first thinking on it a great deal.

  “And I know that I am beneath your station.”

  Be still, heart, she thought.

  “But I…” He took an audible breath. “I am fond of you, Margaret. And I had hoped that you might allow me to spend more time with you.” At last, he looked at her. “Alone.”

  Her heartbeat seemed to grind to a sudden halt. It was what she’d wanted to hear and what she’d dreaded hearing all at once.

  Her breath shuddered out of her and she stopped walking. So did Nathaniel. He turned towards her and took sudden hold of her hands in his.

  She felt the smoothness of his palms encasing her knuckles and stared down at the way he touched her. The breadth of his hands.

  “But I-” She stuttered. “I do not understand. I am a mother. A widow.”

  “And a duchess,” he concluded, with a solemn nod. “But I do not care. I only know that I long to understand you. And perhaps I am a fool, but I believe that you want to understand me too.”

  She nodded, with color high in her cheeks. “I do, Nathaniel. But it is not so simple as what we want.”

  “It should be. Let us make it as simple as that.”

  “Nathaniel-”

  “No,” he interjected, as he brought her hands up towards his face. She felt his breath on her knuckles as he kissed each of them.

  “Let me
speak. I am not proposing anything more than what I say. That you allow me to be near you, so that we might discover what this is between us. Together. Without expectation. Without outside influence playing a part. Only that we might take the time to learn our own hearts. Would that be such a terrible thing?”

  It could be. She knew how truly it could be. But his words awakened some reckless, naïve part of her that believed that the contents of a man or woman’s heart could conquer the rules and regulations of the outside world.