The Earl That Overruled My Destiny

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The Earl That Overruled My Destiny Page 12

by Hanna Hamilton


  After a moment’s pause, Lord Caspian sat beside her, accompanied by the murmuring of fabric. The Lord kept a respectable amount of distance between them, proving that—despite what Gwendoline’s father and, indeed, Gwendoline herself often said—Lord Caspian was a respectable gentleman.

  And one with a good idea of romance.

  Gwendoline gazed over the lake. The waters were so still that they reflected the sky and the trees around them. It was quiet, save for the sound of the leaves rustling above and the calls of owls.

  “It’s very restful here,” Gwendoline said.

  Lord Caspian nodded. “It is. That’s part of the reason why I’m so fond of the place, truth be told. I come here when my father’s expectations seem…” he trailed off and furrowed his brow, looking vaguely ashamed that he’d spoken.

  Gwendoline imagined curling her hand around his and drawing herself closer, but she refrained. Her hand grasped the fabric of her skirts instead. But he looked so solemn, nearly tragic.

  “Do you feel burdened by his expectations sometimes?” she asked delicately.

  Speaking of one’s fathers wasn’t an idle matter, after all, and she’d already spoken ill of Lord Elderdale once before without meaning to do so.

  “Sometimes,” Caspian admitted. “Might I make a confession to you?”

  “I’m not a priest.”

  “And I’m not a particularly devout man,” he replied, grinning roguishly. “But I feel as though I’m…”

  When he trailed off, he didn’t pick up the sentence again. Instead, he fell silent. Gwendoline sighed and inhaled the sweetness of lilies and freshly fallen rain.

  “How do you feel, My Lord? I promise I won’t speak of what you say to anyone, and even if I did, I’m sure most would suspect I was only slandering your good name because of the rivalry between our families.”

  “Just so.”

  Gwendoline removed her slippers and wiggled her toes into the damp earth, sighing contentedly at the coolness against her skin.

  “My father is a cold man, as I have mentioned before. But I feel like he expects me to be just like him, and I’m not sure how to do that. My father is so seldom around, and I want his affection. But at the same time, it seems like he’s incapable of paying me any mind without also noting how inadequate I am.”

  Lord Caspian made it sound as if his father viewed him as an article of clothing, as an expensive, but seldom-worn garment. Ignored until it was needed, tucked away in the wardrobe because it was either no longer fashionable and was unable to be altered.

  “Inadequate?” Gwendoline asked softly.

  Certainly, Lord Caspian was a mischievous creature. The night where he’d provoked her had proven that. But despite her teasing about his flaws, Gwendoline could not imagine Lord Caspian having so many flaws that he would be ineligible or ineffective as an earl.

  “I’m not distant enough for him. Or disciplined enough. He says my spirit is too free, and I’m ill-suited for my position. And yet he doesn’t seem especially interested in handing the title and properties to Noah either.”

  “That would be quite a scandal.”

  Lord Caspian shrugged. “It would be, but if I’m truly so ill-suited to have the title and manage the estate, it seems as though that would be the lesser of two scandals.”

  “I would imagine so, yes.”

  “But I don’t know. Don’t misunderstand me, My Lady. I love my father and have the utmost respect for how he manages the family’s businesses and estates. It is no easy task which my father undertakes. I regret only that I am so unsure around him. I don’t know whether my father’s expectations are too great or if I am too flawed.”

  “For what it’s worth, I think you ought to be kinder to yourself,” Gwendoline said. “You do not seem so terrible of a man to me, and if you are so terrible, surely, some measure of fault would lie with your father for teaching you poorly. Would it not?”

  Lord Caspian shook his head. “You’re so eager to insult the poor Lord Elderdale.”

  Gwendoline chanced a glance at him, expecting to see a hint of anger, but instead, Lord Caspian remained pensive. Melancholic, even.

  But I really ought to mind my words a little better regarding Lord Elderdale. Regardless of what I have heard about the Lord, he is Lord Caspian’s father and undeniably precious to him.

  “Well,” Gwendoline said slowly, thinking over her words, “If your father is as good as you say, it seems reasonable that you must be likewise good. Surely, a man who is so skilled and knowledgeable in managing the Earldom and your family’s business must realize that grooming an adequate heir is also a part of that.”

  “I can’t fault your logic,” Lord Caspian replied, “But I suppose that means I’m the problem.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  Lord Caspian chuckled. “Maybe I’m being irrational.”

  “Maybe you are,” Gwendoline replied. “I have heard you spoken of favorably, for what it’s worth.”

  “Have you?”

  “Often.” Gwendoline paused. “It used to make me so angry to hear others praise you. Florence often told me that you and your brother were charming. Sophia and Lydia both have long admired your beauty, although you mustn’t tell them I have said that. And of course, there were others. Lord Hartford quite admires your determination and your wit.”

  “And does hearing so still make you angry, My Lady?”

  Gwendoline pressed her lips tightly together and gazed over the lake, her expression contemplative. “No. I think it makes me…I feel dreadful now. I feel as though I have misjudged you.”

  Her gaze drifted to his great coat. The pocket was near her calf, and she could see the faint bulge from the locket, her uncle’s locket. The priceless family heirloom that they all thought had been lost forever. And the entire time, it had been in the hands of the Lockwoods’ greatest foe.

  “Do you?”

  “Yes. You seem like a proper gentleman. Very gracious. I do appreciate your willingness to investigate the feud between our families. I think that takes a great deal of courage to do. Neither you nor I know what we’ll find or what may result from our searches. That you’re willing to risk the uncertainty speaks well of you.”

  “Then it speaks well of you, too.”

  Gwendoline smiled. “I like to think of it as an adventure. I’m journeying into the unknown and discovering a long-lost secret.”

  “You like adventures, then?”

  “I do. I have read too many novels, perhaps, and too many poems. And sometimes, I long to be the heroine in some novel. They always have the grandest adventures.”

  “I know the feeling well,” he replied, his voice warm.

  “You seem as if you do,” Gwendoline said.

  “And how does your father feel about that? Your love for adventure?”

  Gwendoline sighed. “I feel…when I was a girl, my father was my entire world, and I was his. We spent a great deal of time together, more than most fathers and daughters. But now that I’m older, I feel as though there’s a sea between us. It’s like we have lost some profound, crucial thing and can’t get it back. No matter how hard we try.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  Gwendoline fidgeted with a violet at her feet. She plucked the blossom and twisted the stem between her fingers. She felt as though she ought to cease speaking. It was improper for her to speak of her father so, especially with a man like Lord Caspian. Even if he wasn’t quite her enemy, she still didn’t know him that well, after all.

  But speaking so honestly to Lord Caspian feels so right. So proper.

  “It is what it is.”

  “Is he a supportive man, your father?” Lord Caspian asked. “Even though you feel as though this space has opened between the two of you?”

  “He wanted a son. Desperately. And I think when I was a girl, he liked me more because there was still a chance that my mother would give him one. But I’m all he has. Sometimes, I wonder if he resents me still for
not being the son he desired.”

  “I’m so sorry, My Lady. That sounds terrible.”

  “He genuinely wants what is best for me,” Gwendoline replied. “In looking after my future, I can find no fault in him. Lord Newhost wants me to have a successful, advantageous marriage, like all fathers. And he wants me to be an asset to the family and to honor the family name.”

  “You say a great deal about what your father wants. But how do you feel about this?” Lord Caspian asked.

  “I’m not a perfect Lady, and I know that. Despite my best efforts—” Gwendoline cut off abruptly. “No. I don’t know if I can even say that I have made my best efforts at being a proper Lady. I have been taught well. I know that. But there’s something inside me that abhors acting like a proper lady.”

  “Abhors it?”

  Gwendoline nodded. “I’m not ungrateful. I know I’m blessed to be a lady, and I enjoy a great deal of privilege. But I can’t keep this feeling of unfulfillment from deep in my soul. I long to go on grand adventures and to be free. I want to see everything and do everything, and I feel as though all anyone else wants me to do is stay on the manor grounds and attend grand balls.”

  “You have a free spirit,” Lord Caspian offered.

  “Something like that.”

  “But I don’t know that your feelings are so unnatural. I think it’s very natural to want to travel to exotic places and to experience things no other has.”

  Gwendoline tilted her head toward him, her eyes downcast.

  He understands. He really, truly understands.

  But she felt as though there was a curious magic between the two of them, and if she looked at him, that strange spell would break. And she didn’t want it to break. Not now, if ever.

  “I have never been to Spain,” she said softly, “But you have. Is it as lovely as I have heard?”

  “No,” he replied. “It’s far lovelier. I did not get to enjoy the country as much as I wanted. I went for business, rather than for pleasure. But it’s a beautiful place. Our villa sits upon a high cliff, and if you look down, the ocean is so blue and deep. You narrow your eyes and stare down into those waters, trying to find the bottom of them, but you discover there is none.”

  Gwendoline gazed into the lake, the reeds and grasses visible beneath the water.

  “And the weather is lovely and temperate. The wind sweeps across the cliffs and whistles through the vineyard. It doesn’t rain as often there. It’s bright and cheerful, and the skies are the most vibrant blue I have ever seen. I wish only that I could visit for enjoyment more often.”

  “The most beautiful place I have ever seen is Scotland, and sadly, I could not explore the countryside as much as I might have wanted. I was primarily visiting a potential suitor.”

  “It sounds exhausting. And terribly disappointing. You travel all that way, only to meet someone who you may or may not wish to wed.”

  “That’s the life of a lady,” Gwendoline replied. “You know that as well as I.”

  Gwendoline’s thoughts went to Lady Helena. She seemed like a woman who’d seized her own adventure; a woman who had been willing to deny the conventions that restrained those ladies with noble blood.

  How brave she must have been!

  Her chest ached with longing. If only she could have the courage to follow her desires, she felt as though she’d surely be much happier than she was now.

  “Have you given serious thought to which of your suitors you’ll choose?” Lord Caspian asked.

  “I haven’t given the matter as much thought as I ought to have,” she confessed, “But I’m certain my father will have more say in the matter than I will.”

  “And your mother? Lady Newhost is not even in London for the Season, is she?”

  “No, she isn’t. But my mother has always been a solitary creature. I think she’s tired of the excitement of the ton and its balls.”

  “My own mother might stay away if it was not for my father,” Lord Caspian mused. “She is a quiet woman.”

  “But your father insists on her attending functions?”

  “He does.” Lord Caspian paused, his brow furrowing. “I’m not saying that my mother does not enjoy such things, but she tires easily. Especially of late.”

  Gwendoline nodded. “So we’re both failures, are we?” she asked. “Unable to fulfill the expectations of our fathers.”

  “With kinder mothers?”

  “Gentler mothers,” Gwendoline replied. “But I don’t think even my mother truly understands what I desire. And I can’t blame her for that.”

  He hummed. “I don’t know if my mother understands either. I know my brother doesn’t.”

  “Florence speaks highly of your brother.”

  Lord Caspian picked up a pebble from the grass and tossed it into the lake. For a moment, the two of them were silent, watching as the pebble skipped along the surface of the water. Three times. Then, it vanished with a trail of bubbles.

  “Noah is a good man. Kind, patient, dependable. I know there are some siblings who do not like one another, but I have always adored mine. And he’s never resented me for being the older sibling. That happens with young men sometimes, or so I have heard.”

  “I wonder if the same is true of sisters and ladies,” Gwendoline said. “I have never had a sister.”

  “That means you have all your parents’ expectations,” Lord Caspian said. “You cannot even hope to spread them among your siblings.”

  “Is that how you think of it?”

  “It sounds colder than I mean, but there is a comfort in knowing that if I falter in my duty or if—God forbid—something happens to me, I have my brother to watch after the family and ensure our continued prosperity. And he’s a wonderful confidant.”

  “I suppose I understand that.”

  Lord Caspian stood, dusting himself off. “It’s late, My Lady. I have enjoyed speaking with you, but I fear I must return you to the estate now. We wouldn’t want our moonlight escapade to be found out.”

  “No,” Gwendoline replied, “Although this escapade likely proves where the fault lies between our parents and us.”

  “This?” Lord Caspian asked, chuckling. “Oh, no. This is a good thing. I have no doubts of that, My Lady.”

  When he offered his hand, Gwendoline stood. For an instant, they stood silently, her hand still in his. Her heart raced. She felt as though the two of them were contained within one magical moment, and Gwendoline wasn’t sure that she’d have cared if the moment lasted forever.

  But it couldn’t. She had to return before anyone learned that she’d been away, especially with Lord Caspian.

  And yet. The truth always comes out, even if it’s years from now.

  The Lord helped her to his lovely, sleek mare and helped her mount the fine animal. Then, he pulled himself into the saddle before her. He coaxed the mare into a trot, and Gwendoline let herself relax. She felt the heat radiating from Lord Caspian’s body, and her own body was enveloped in a pleasant, gentle warmth.

  As they nearer the Lockwood property, Lord Caspian steered the horse to the edge of the estate. He dismounted and offered his hand to Gwendoline. Her feet lighted onto the ground, but she still kept her hand in his.

  For a brief, silent moment, they gazed at one another. But finally, Lord Caspian cleared his throat. “Do we even really hate one another?” he murmured. “Were we ever enemies and did we ever really dislike one another, or were all of our ill feelings just caused by the words of others?”

  “I think that might be true,” Gwendoline murmured.

  “Well, then. I would like to see you again. Sometime.”

  “You will. Thank you for the ride. It was very lovely.”

  Feeling bold, Gwendoline shifted her weight onto the balls of her feet and placed a gentle, chaste kiss upon Lord Caspian’s cheek. His eyes widened, and his lips parted, as if he meant to say something, but no words emerged.

  “Until next time,” Gwendoline murmured.

 
She headed toward the manor, lifting her skirts to keep them free of dirt. Her pulse fluttered beneath her veins. She felt as though starlight ran in her blood now. She never wanted to sleep. Gwendoline wanted to stay awake forever and think about the feel of Lord Caspian’s smooth cheek against her lips.

  And yet she knew that she was courting a disaster. If she kept meeting Lord Caspian, eventually, she’d be caught.

  Chapter 14

  Lord Elderdale’s desk always filled Caspian with a strong uneasiness. His father was too neat. There was never anything out of place with his father, never a crumpled paper or an open book. Never a scattering of pens or a sign of some project left unfinished. Even the Earl’s bookshelf appeared perfectly, pristinely organized.

 

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