by Joyce Alec
“I…” Trailing off, she grasped frantically for an answer. “I confess, Lord Turner, I was thinking of a good many things. There is so much I do not know about you, and I suppose—”
The smile faded from his face. “You wish to ask me about my past? About these?” he asked, his brows beginning to come together as he gestured to his scars. “Is that what it is?”
“No, indeed not!” she exclaimed, her heart hammering wildly. “I should not dream of asking such questions.”
Sighing, Lord Turner indicated the bench nearby. “I will tell you this, Dorothea, you are quite unable to hide your emotions from me. I can see that you are deeply concerned and wish to hide the truth from me, but you need not do so. Neither do you need to be worried about asking me anything you wish. I will tell you whatever it is you want to know since I am to be your husband after all. You have every right to know the kind of man your husband is.”
Mortified that he had been able to see just how much she had been trying to hide the truth from him, Dorothea sat down at once and turned her face away from his, looking out across the park. There were a few carriages going about here and there in that slow, cumbersome fashion that allowed everyone else to see who exactly was within. In addition, there were more than a few gentlemen and ladies walking within the park. She tried to cool her cheeks simply by clasping her hands in her lap and telling herself furiously that she was quite composed, but it did not work.
“I have not always been a good man,” Lord Turner began, his voice low. “It was my own self-importance and lack of consideration for others that gained me such injuries. I am quite sure you have heard the stories. I cared not what my actions would cost those I took from. On occasion, I even cheated.”
Dorothea’s breath caught in her chest, her color slowly draining away.
“I was not a good man, as I have said,” Lord Turner continued, a faraway look in his eyes, as Dorothea turned to face him. “But I have learned my lesson in the most difficult way possible. I shall never become that kind of man again, which is why I am most ashamed of myself when it comes to our engagement and how that came about.” Sighing, he shook his head to himself, his gaze fixed somewhere over her shoulder. “I ought not to have gambled. I ought not to have accepted your father’s offer, but I could not bear it any longer. For whatever reason, Lord Gaines pushed me and pushed me and pushed me until I gave in to his demands and played a game of cards. I believe that the only reason I accepted his suggestion of your hand in marriage was simply to put him in his place once and for all, to ensure that he would never ask me to play cards again.” Sighing, he dropped his head and ran his hand over his eyes. “That is the kind of gentleman I am, Dorothea. A gentleman who is trying to ensure he does not return to the vices that held him so tightly.” Looking up at her, he touched her hand with his, and Dorothea started violently. Lord Turner did not remove his hand, however, but kept it there despite the fact that she was now breathing rather quickly.
“Does that satisfy your curiosity?” he asked, without even a hint of malice or anger in his voice. “Will I do, Dorothea?”
Stunned at just how she had reacted to the briefest of touches, Dorothea managed a short, jerky nod and saw him smile. Her heart had been hammering violently but now took on more of a gentle fluttering, as though gladdened that there was a growing intimacy between them. She knew that, should she press him, he would tell her more. He would tell her about his scars and the particulars of how they had come about, but she did not want to do so. There was a softness about him that she did not want to shatter. So, quietly, she sat there on the bench with him, his hand over hers.
“My, my, Lord Turner!”
Dorothea jerked and rose to her feet just as Lord Turner did. A gentleman she did not know was walking by them, another gentleman by his side. They were both wearing identical grins of somewhat dark smiles, and the more she looked at the first gentleman’s face, the more she found she disliked him.
“I can hardly believe that you have managed to find yourself a bride,” the first gentleman said with a slightly mocking bow in her direction. “Although I did hear that you had been forced to win her in a bet! Is that the only way a gentleman with such…distinguished looks…was able to find himself a wife?” The scornful tone of his voice had Dorothea’s anger rising almost immediately, and she planted her hands on her hips, taking a step towards the two gentlemen before Lord Turner had time to react.
“I can see that you yourself are not accompanied by a young lady, good sir,” she answered, her eyes boring into his. “Is that because you have not managed to secure a lady’s affections as yet?”
The gentleman’s smile faltered, and he stammered something incoherent.
“I must say, with a cruel tongue such as yours, I can hardly imagine why the ladies are not flocking to you,” she continued, her anger flowing unabated towards the gentleman. “It must be very trying for you. I can only pray that, one day soon, you will find the happiness and contentment that I have discovered since becoming engaged to Lord Turner.”
The gentleman scowled. “Now see here, Miss Earnest. I heard it from Lord Brinkstone that your father was playing a hand of cards and—”
“Then you are quite misinformed,” Dorothea interrupted, feeling Lord Turner’s hand on her arm but refusing to step back. Having seen the scornful glances in Lord Turner’s direction from these two gentlemen, she had felt herself filled with indignance that Lord Turner was being so treated—simply because of how he looked. “Lord Gaines, my father, went to speak to Lord Turner about our engagement. That is all. Whether they played cards or not, I cannot say, for I was not present, but anything other than that is nothing more than a lie. A lie, gentlemen.” She narrowed her eyes and took a small step forward, feeling rather pleased with herself when they both shrank back a little in the face of her righteous anger. “Now, might I suggest that you both go and take some time to reflect on your conduct and perhaps think on what it might be about your character that prevents you from finding such a happy situation as Lord Turner has found?” Turning, she quickly seized Lord Turner’s arm and made towards the path once more. “Good day, gentlemen,” she finished sweetly, before marching down the path with Lord Turner in tow.
They walked for a good few minutes before Lord Turner began to laugh. Dorothea, who had been walking with a good deal of anger and frustration still in her steps, stopped and looked up at him, seeing the tears in his eyes as he let out chortles of laughter.
She found that she could not stop herself from joining in, and in a few moments, they were both in peals of laughter that echoed all over St James’s Park.
“My goodness, Dorothea!” Lord Turner exclaimed, catching her hand and bowing over it. “You are quite a remarkable lady. Those two gentlemen did not know what to say to you.” Shaking his head, he looked at her with admiration. Dorothea felt her heart warm. He was utterly transformed when he laughed. His eyes were bright, his very countenance one of delight. He was, in his own way, quite a handsome character.
“Your defense of me is both commendable and appreciated,” he continued, bowing over her hand again and gently pressing his lips to it. “You are a wonder, my dear lady.”
The laughter ripped from her as his lips were pressed against her skin. Something shimmered up her arm, making her tremble just a little as he raised his head and looked into her eyes. She could see that the laughter was gone from him too, replaced with an awareness that had her heart quickening yet again.
“I should return you home,” he said after a moment, stepping back and offering her his arm again. “We have walked for a long time, and I daresay you will be tired.”
“Not in the least,” she replied, trying to put a lilt to her voice that would not convey just how unsettled she was over such a small gesture. “But yes, my father will be waiting for me, I suppose.” That took the happiness from her heart almost at once, and she saw Lord Turner looking at her with a slight curiosity in his eyes.
Unwill
ing, however, to talk about her father, Dorothea quickly changed the subject to Lord Patton’s upcoming ball. Thankfully, Lord Turner was more than willing to discuss the evening with her, and so they engaged in friendly discussion all the way back to her home.
8
One week later and Edward found himself sitting idly by the window, looking out across the gloomy London streets with nothing but the thought of Dorothea on his mind.
It had been a busy week, for he had immediately began courting Miss Earnest, just as he had said he would. Despite the many fears that had clouded his mind, he had discovered that Miss Earnest was not in any way embarrassed or ashamed to be seen out with him. She did not shirk when someone openly stared at them, nor did she turn away from the idea of going out walking with him.
The way she had given those two gentlemen a set down had quite taken his breath away. No one had ever stood up for him in such a fashion. Whilst he had not required her aid in that particular matter, he had been greatly obliged that she had done so. In fact, she seemed quite at ease in his company now. They had talked a good deal, and he had discovered she was both quick-witted and intelligent – although a little too intelligent for his liking. He felt as though he ought to delve into the depths of his library and read almost everything he could get his hands on in an attempt to improve himself so that he might keep up with his bride-to-be.
The way he felt about his bride-to-be, however, was quite another matter. When he had pressed his lips to her hand the day they had been walking in St James’s Park, it had been as though a lightning strike had occurred right in between the two of them. He had felt the ground shake beneath him, his whole body suddenly alive with a strange new sensation that he had both welcomed and rejected in equal measure. She was remarkably pretty, but to have such a strong reaction to the lady was more than he had expected. In addition, he was quite sure that there was more about her father that she kept from him. Edward could not forget how the light had faded from her eyes the moment she had mentioned Lord Gaines. She had shuddered at one point too, when the discussion had turned onto her father. Was there a fear there? A dread? What was it about Lord Gaines that frightened her so?
During his musings on this over the last few days, Edward had come upon something that had troubled him all the more. It had continued to dog his thoughts, to the point that he could never seem to forget it.
“Lost in the thoughts of love, are we?”
Edward snorted, not needing to turn his head to know that Lord Johnston had come into the room.
“I hardly think so, Johnston. Do come in, however. Have a brandy, if you care to. It will not be long until we must make our way to Lord Hankel’s soiree.”
“Another ball,” Johnston chuckled, pouring two brandies and handing one to Edward. “Anyone would think that you liked such things, Turner.”
Edward rolled his eyes. “Luckily you know me well enough to know otherwise,” he muttered darkly. “I intend to spend most of my time in the gardens or in the card room.”
“Even if Miss Earnest is there?”
That was not a question he could easily answer. Ignoring it, he indicated the chairs by the fire. “Let us sit down, Johnston. There is something I must discuss with you.”
Lord Johnston looked mildly and came immediately to sit opposite Edward by the small fire that burned in the grate to ward off the summer evening’s chill. Edward let out a long breath and let his gaze rest on the flames. It did not bring him any sense of fear or dread as it had once done, nor did it fill his mind with terrifying memories.
“I overheard something the evening I was introduced to Miss Earnest,” he began. “I was out in the gardens taking the air when I heard a father berating his daughter.”
Lord Johnston frowned. “Berating her? For what reason?”
Edward shrugged. “I could not quite make it out. Of course, I ought not to have been eavesdropping, but when the gentleman struck his daughter, I found myself growing somewhat angry.”
Lord Johnston, however, did not look too concerned. “Whilst I agree that is distasteful, there is nothing for you to do in this matter,” he replied with a slight air of nonchalance. “A father can treat his children just as he pleases.”
“This was not a child,” Edward argued, recalling just how angry he had been over what he had heard. “This was a father threatening his daughter. She was to do as he told her else it would be ‘all the worse for her’ and from what I could hear, it sounded as though the lady in question was afraid.”
Sitting up a little straighter, Lord Johnston set his glass down and gazed thoughtfully at Edward. “That is troubling, I will admit, but again, Turner, there is nothing you can—”
“The only father and daughter present that evening was Lord Gaines and Miss Earnest.”
Lord Johnston’s mouth dropped open. His eyes widened with shock as he stared at Edward, suddenly realizing just why Edward had been so concerned.
“Besides that,” Edward continued in a softer tone. “Whilst I do not think she realized she was doing it, Miss Earnest rubbed at her cheek and winced as she did so. I believe that was from where her father struck her.”
“But that means…?” Lord Johnston stammered, his confusion mounting.
“That means that there may be more to this supposed ‘arrangement’ than I first thought,” Edward said softly. “Yes, I had thought of that.” The memory of what Lord Gaines, if it had been him, had said to his daughter ran through his mind again. “The worst of it is, Johnston, that Lord Gaines words were ‘if you do not do as I ask, then I will do as much harm to him as I can’ – or something of that kind. It seems as though Miss Earnest is to do her father’s bidding, even in this marriage of ours. I cannot imagine what Lord Gaines is asking her to do, nor can I know what consequences it is he speaks of when he threatens her, but it seems that for whatever reason, Lord Gaines has set up his daughter for a very particular reason.”
“My goodness,” Lord Johnston breathed, his nonchalance gone completely. “Do you think that Lord Gaines deliberately threw the card game? Do you think that he played and played until he had nothing left, solely to put the hand of his daughter on the table?”
Edward let out a long breath, closing his eyes and feeling the prick of embarrassment nestle into his heart. “I was foolish, Johnston, just as you said. I ought never to have agreed to such a wager. My heart was proud, and truth be told, I thought it almost a good idea. The thought of having a wife, no matter whether or not she was forced to wed me, was not an entirely distasteful one.” To speak so honestly brought a flush of heat to Edward’s face, as he admitted to his friend that he had been somewhat lonely, believing that he would never find himself a wife even though that was not his purpose in returning to London. He recalled how Dorothea had made to touch his scars lightly and how he had stepped back at once. To have a wife was one thing. To allow her such intimacies as that, quite another.
“I do not blame you for that,” Lord Johnston said quietly. “Nor will I rebuke you again. What is it that you intend to do then, Turner? Will you speak to Miss Earnest about the matter?”
Edward let the heat clear from his features before he replied. “I cannot be sure what to do,” he confessed slowly. “I begin to find myself rather concerned with what I will uncover, should I pursue Miss Earnest with my questions. I do not want to frighten her when it seems she had been more than threatened by her own father!”
“That compassion behooves you, but it also blocks your path,” Lord Johnston replied with a good deal more sternness that Edward had expected. “You ought to ask the chit outright what it is she is doing and why she is allowing her father to push her in such a direction. There must be some reason, Turner, and it is important that you find out what that reason is!”
Hesitating, Edward shook his head slowly. “You did not hear her that night, Johnston. She tried terribly hard to find the courage required to stand up to her father’s threats, but he only continued to push her down – physicall
y, if he had to. I believe there is a good deal more to Miss Earnest than she allows herself to show. If I ask her outright now, I am afraid that she will turn from me and hide herself all the more.”
It was evident that Lord Johnston did not believe this, for he grunted loudly and twisted his features with frustration. Edward, however, continued to think on Miss Earnest and felt his heart softening towards her when he recalled just how afraid she had been of her father. The poor girl had more than enough to deal with and certainly did not need a beast such as himself to bear down upon her also.
“I will discover the truth without seeking Miss Earnest’s honesty,” he murmured to himself softly. “I will discover what it is her father intends to do—without forcing her to tell me the truth. That way, I can protect her from her father’s cruelty whilst ensuring that he cannot continue to push her in whichever direction he wishes.”
“For heaven’s sake, Turner, you sound as though you are caught up with this girl already!” Lord Johnston exclaimed, his eyes wide. “You have only just met her, and now you are determined to…care for her in such a fashion?”
A small smile caught Edward’s lips. “It is, perhaps, a blessing that I am now forced to consider someone other than myself,” he said softly. “You need not fear, Johnston, that I will become something of a romantic, but given that Miss Earnest is to be my wife, you can hardly blame me for wishing to ensure there is no particular difficulty between us. I would have thought you would have understood, since you are so intimately acquainted with Miss Huntly.” His broad smile, however, was met by a flickering frown. As Edward watched, he saw that Lord Johnston’s eyes grew somewhat heavy.
“Miss Huntly has chosen another,” Johnston muttered thickly. “It is all at an end.”
For a moment, Edward did not know what to say nor what to do. His friend had clearly been quite caught up with the lady, and now she had rejected him completely. He was not sure whether or not Johnston had felt any particular affection for the lady, but by the look on his face, it was apparent that he was rather displeased with how things had turned out.
