To Tempt an Earl

by Kristin Vayden

  "It's not that much of a secret," Berty added.

  "Again, not helping," Beatrix ground out.

  "Girls? Let me speak with Bethanny alone, do you mind?" Carlotta asked with regal grace as she touched Berty's shoulder gently.

  "Yes, of course." Beatrix stood.

  When Berty opened her mouth, a defiant glint in her eye, Beatrix grabbed her hand and pulled her up from the chair.

  "We'll be in the library." Beatrix spoke with a steely edge, daring her younger sister to argue.

  "I'm coming, I'm coming. There's no need to cut off my circulation." Berty pulled her hand out of Beatrix's grasp. After pausing and sighing deeply, she turned to address Carlotta. "We shall be in the library." She nodded emphatically and breezed from the room, leaving Beatrix behind.

  "As if you didn't hear me the first time." Beatrix shook her head at Carlotta.

  Carlotta held up her hand to hide the wide smile Bethanny could see dancing in her eyes.

  Berty was entertaining, if nothing else.

  Beatrix nodded and closed the door as she left.

  "Come, darling. Is your tender heart feeling broken from the earl's sudden departure? I had noticed him paying marked attention toward you, and I was going to speak with you concerning it, but I was… distracted. Forgive me."

  Bethanny's heart pinched with longing for her own mother as she saw the care, the concern etched on her former governess's face. A tear welled up and escaped.

  "Dear Bethanny, " Carlotta murmured and strode forward, pulling her it to a tight embrace, clearly not concerned that her dress would be wrinkled or stained with tears.

  "Pardon me, I—"

  "You're hurting. And I imagine you wish you had your mother here," Carlotta whispered, her kindness releasing a new torrent of tears from Bethanny.

  "Yes, I feel like such a ninny." She sniffed, leaning back to look at Carlotta.

  "Don't. I cannot tell you how many times I have wished for advice from my own mother, to simply feel her arms around me, to smell her rose water." Carlotta inhaled deeply, as if smelling it from memory alone.

  "I miss her."

  "As you should."

  "But you and the duke—"

  "Are not your parents. I understand. But I hope you know, beyond all doubt, how much we love you. You might not have your parents, but you do have love, dear."

  Bethanny smiled through her tears. "I know. Thank you."

  "Now…" Carlotta led them back to the chaise and sat beside her, "Lord Graham left for Scotland. I take it you weren't expecting this."

  "No."

  "Can you tell me why?" Carlotta asked, her green gaze sharp and patient.

  "No."

  "Can't or do not wish to?" Carlotta tilted her head slightly.

  "Don't wish to?" Bethanny added softly.

  "I see… was there an understanding between you and the earl?"

  "No," Bethanny answered, her heart calling her a fool for wishing so desperately to answer differently. "However," Bethanny felt her shoulders slump in a very unladylike manner, "he did imply that he… enjoyed my company.

  "Has he kissed you?" Carlotta asked directly.

  "Er—" Bethanny stammered.

  "Yes then." She nodded. "You really shouldn't let gentlemen kiss you, dear. But I happen to know someone quite like the earl," she winked conspiratorially, "and those types of gentlemen tend to get what they want." She grinned.

  "The duke?"

  "Indeed. The man didn't understand the meaning of no… unless he was telling it to himself," she amended. She glanced to the low-burning fire and furrowed her brow. "This isn't adding up. Something's amiss. Let me speak with Charles. I'll get to the bottom of this."

  "What do you mean?" Bethanny asked, desperate for some sort of hope.

  "Lord Graham isn't one to dally with—" She began quickly then stopped. "What I mean to say is if Lord Graham kissed you, then he wasn't simply playing with your affections. His friendship with the duke is far too important for him to entertain a flirtation with you. So there must have been a reason he left."

  "But—"

  "I watched him, you know." Carlotta leaned forward, her eyes dancing.

  "What?"

  "I watched him around you. And don't think you're pulling the wool over my eyes, young lady. I saw you leave the party at the Symores'. It wasn't long after that Charles… oh, dear heavens." Carlotta's green eyes widened.

  "What?" Bethanny leaned forward, her heart pounding a staccato rhythm.

  "I… I think… Bethanny, I need you to be honest with me, I'll not be upset. But did Lord Graham kiss you when you two left the ballroom at the Symores' rout?"

  "Y-yes." Bethanny answered.

  "And… forgive me, but I'm going to be blunt. Was it more of a passionate exchange than a simple chaste kiss?" Carlotta reached out and grasped Bethanny's hands.

  "Er… yes." Bethanny felt her face color and heat with shame and embarrassment at admitting such a private affair to her former governess.

  "Blast it all," Carlotta swore.

  "Pardon?" Bethanny's eyes widened.

  "I've got to talk with the duke." Carlotta stood.

  "Excuse me?" Bethanny followed suit.

  "Charles, the duke, he — botheration! He went searching for you after I saw you leave. I didn't think much of it; I was too happy about — never mind. The issue is that if he… found you in a particular situation with the earl…" Carlotta leaned forward and gestured with hand.

  "Oh heavens."

  "Exactly."

  "Wh-what are you going to do?" Bethanny asked, her hands gripping the soft muslin of her day dress.

  "I'm going to go and speak with my husband."

  "About? What are you going to say?" Bethanny panicked. The very last thing she wanted was the duke to hear about her clandestine activities with his best friend.

  Bloody hell.

  Yes, swearing is fully acceptable in this situation, she told herself.

  "Don't fret. I'll keep what you've said to me confidential, but if I suspect that it's not a necessity… I'm quite convinced he already knows, dear."

  "What do you think this has to do with Graham leaving, then?" Bethanny asked, her heart pounding.

  Carlotta paused mid-step. With a weighted sigh, she turned to face Bethanny. Her expression was shuttered, yet a determined light illuminated her green gaze. "Everything, dear. Everything," Carlotta spoke gravely then spun and left, the door remaining slightly ajar in her wake.

  It was turning into the worst disaster.

  And it wasn't even noon.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  "Did I miss anything?" Berty asked as she rushed into Bethanny's room. With a complete lack of grace, she sprang onto the bed, her impact jostling Bethanny and Beatrix who were reclining.

  Fretting was more accurate.

  Molly had been sent to fetch more chocolate.

  Of course, this probably was the third time, but Bethanny refused to count.

  "Yes, you did," Beatrix answered.

  "I knew it," Berty whined. "I couldn't get here fast enough, blasted lessons."

  "Berty!" Bethanny's brow furrowed. Goodness' sake, it would be a miracle if Berty ever turned out to be lady.

  "It's true." Berty shrugged, nonplused by her sister's reprimand. She reached for the last bit of chocolate and quickly popped the decadent piece of bittersweet delight into her mouth.

  Bethanny scowled.

  "It's not as if you both haven't had your share," Berty took in her sister's glower.

  "True," Beatrix amended, though she was eyeing the few small specks of chocolate remaining on the plate with acute longing etched on her features.

  "So, what did I miss?" Berty asked after swallowing.

  "This is a disaster," Bethanny fell back on the bed and closed her eyes.

  "Why?" Berty asked impatiently.

  Bethanny swore she could hear her younger sister's eyes roll — if that were possible.

  "Carlotta affirmed he
r suspicions."

  "Suspicions?" Berty asked, her tone lingering as she waiting for an answer.

  "Suspicions that the duke… er… witnessed an amorous encounter taking place between our dear sister and Lord Graham."

  Berty's eyes grew to the size of tea saucers. "Blast it all."

  "I agree wholeheartedly," Bethanny murmured.

  "So…" Berty shifted on the bed, causing Bethanny to shift her gaze from the ceiling to her youngest sister, "what are we going to do?"

  "We?" Bethanny spoke at the same as Beatrix, disbelief coloring their tones.

  "Yes, we! You love Lord Graham, do you not?" Berty asked, rising up on her knees and placing her hands on her hips.

  "Yes," Bethanny affirmed.

  "Then we can't just let this… setback… steal away your opportunity to snatch him up." Berty nodded.

  "Snatch him up?" Beatrix repeated.

  Berty shrugged. "Very well. Leg shackle him, marry him, give him the ol' parson's noose."

  "What a lovely picture you paint of marriage," Beatrix drolled.

  "That's what they all say," Berty answered succinctly.

  Beatrix's eyes narrowed. "All? And who is all? Just who have you been speaking with, Berty?"

  "Very well, I read it."

  "In a book?"

  "In the gossip papers, if you must know," Berty huffed.

  "Because that is a reputable source of information," Beatrix whispered quietly for Bethanny's ears only.

  Bethanny nodded.

  And rolled her eyes for good measure.

  "We are digressing!" Berty slammed her fist into her hand, startling Bethanny. "What we need…" Berty bit her lower lip and slid off the bed. Her slippers made a muted sound as she paced the hardwood floor of Bethanny's room.

  "We need a plan," Beatrix added, moving to stand as well.

  Bethany smiled. "I believe we established that."

  "What we need…" Berty paused and tapped her lip with her first finger. "I've got it!" she shouted, causing Beatrix to squeal and jump back slightly.

  Bethanny scooted back on the bed, so devilish and mischievous was the glint in her younger sister's eyes.

  "We need a house party!"

  "Because?" Beatrix cocked her head to one side, casting a confused glance to Bethanny.

  "Because then we can invite Lord Graham," Berty finished, with a tone that suggested she thought her older sister quite daft.

  "Ah, yes! Because Lord Graham will flee Scotland at the first opportunity at visiting his dear old friend, the Duke of Clairmont, who, from what we understand, ran him off English soil!" Beatrix said with more than a hint of sarcasm.

  Bethanny held her tongue. Her comment wouldn't have been as kind.

  "No. We don't have him invited by the duke. You ninnies are daft! We have his sister invite him."

  "And why would he come to the summons of his sister? That hasn't exactly worked in the past," Bethanny asked, dubious.

  "Oh, he'll come…" Berty nodded, her eyes dancing.

  "Why?"

  "Because we're going to tell him it's Bethanny's engagement party."

  "I am not certain this will work," Bethanny heard herself say once again as she cast a dubious glance to Beatrix.

  She shrugged, which wasn't any help whatsoever.

  "Of course it will work!" Berty affirmed again. She was the only one with any conviction on the matter; of course, that could be because it was her idea.

  Bethanny wondered why she hadn't protested.

  No, she knew.

  She was that desperate. It had been a full week since Lord Graham's sudden departure, and as each day passed, she'd felt his absence more acutely than the last.

  "But what if word gets out—"

  "It won't. Lady Southridge will be the sole of discretion." Berty nodded, her soft curls bouncing as if adding emphasis.

  "That—" Beatrix started.

  "Is what I'm concerned about," Bethanny finished.

  "You need to give her more credit," Berty huffed quietly as they approached the salon door. "Now, you remember the plan?"

  "It's not espionage, Berty." Bethanny rolled her eyes.

  "But think of how much more fun it would be if—" Berty began.

  "If this were over with?" Beatrix interrupted.

  "You two are no longer any fun to be around," she said quietly then added. "If this is what falling in love does to you, I'm considering spinsterhood."

  Beatrix glanced to Bethanny and rolled her eyes dramatically.

  Bethanny shared the sentiment deeply.

  As Berty opened the door to the blue salon, filtered sunlight spilled into the hall and illuminated the rich tone of the hardwood floors. The sound of skirts swishing accompanied their entrance a moment before Murray caught up in efforts to announce her.

  Poor Murray. As if anyone could hope to keep up with Lady Southridge.

  "Girls!" Lady Southridge stood and welcomed them with a bright grin.

  "Good afternoon," Bethanny spoke for her sisters.

  Lady Southridge's eyes skittered from Beatrix to Berty, not making eye contact with Bethanny.

  Strange.

  "I received your missive, Berty. I must say you have a wild flair for the dramatic, love." Lady Southridge grinned and raised an eyebrow.

  "Berty?" Bethanny turned to her younger sister, her tone questioning.

  "Er, thank you, Lady Southridge." Berty took a few steps away from Bethanny and sat, ignoring Bethanny's question.

  "I'm not sure it was meant as a compliment," Beatrix whispered to Bethanny before she moved to sit on a chaise across from Lady Southridge.

  "Indeed," Bethanny answered, eyeing her sister meaningfully.

  "Now, what is this secret mission?" Lady Southridge leaned forward, her eyes dancing.

  "Secret mission?" Bethanny repeated, then turned accusing eyes to Berty.

  Berty had the wisdom to study her lap and not meet her sister's gaze.

  "Yes! The note was quite cryptic! I was utterly impatient to discover what needed such secrecy! Oh! And Berty, do not fret. I did not even disclose my whereabouts to my lady's maid. And you'll be impressed," she grinned wildly and held up her gloved hand next to her mouth as if to whisper, "I had my coachman drop me off at the Kensington Gardens, and I walked the rest of the way here, so absolutely no one knows where I am!" She lowered her hand and swept it with a grand flourish.

  "Brilliant." Berty leaned forward, her manner delighted.

  "Lady Southridge! No one knows where you are? And you walked? Alone? From Kensington Gardens?" Bethanny scolded, hanging her good manners and placing her hands on her hips.

  "Psh, love. I'm nearly sixty — though you'll carry that information to your grave." She narrowed her eyes dangerously until Bethanny, along with her two sisters, nodded their agreement. "And being such, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

  "But what if thieves had assaulted you in the park?"

  "At this hour?" Lady Southridge shook her head. "Besides, I always carry this," she pulled up her reticule and withdrew a pistol," when I'm alone."

  Bethanny gasped.

  Beatrix leaned back.

  Berty reached for it.

  "Ah, no." Lady Southridge smacked her hand. "When you're older," she amended then winked.

  Berty's grin was wide enough to split her face.

  "Heaven help us all, it's bad enough that you're carrying around a weapon. Don't promise that Berty might do the same. Goodness knows what trouble will follow!" Bethanny shook her head.

  "And to think I said that Berty had a flair for the dramatic." Lady Southridge turned a slightly irritated gaze to Bethanny. "Now, are we going to cackle about like old hens, or are you going to let me in on your little secret?" Silently, she put the pistol away in her reticule and set it on the floor beside her.

  Bethanny's gaze kept straying to it, the seemingly benign sky-blue reticule. She didn't know what was more dangerous: the pistol or Lady Southridge.

&nb
sp; It was a tie.

  "Well, you see there's been… a situation," Berty began, as she smoothed her lavender skirt and nodded slightly, causing her chestnut curls to spring.

  "Oh heavens…" Lady Southridge leaned forward, her eyes widening, but her tone anything but delighted.

  "You see." Berty cut a sidelong glance to Bethanny." My sister and your brother—"

  "Berty, perhaps I should explain?" Bethanny cut in. Heaven only knew that with the current state of things, by the end of the conversation their original plans would be wildly overstated.

  And absurd.

  And utterly unhelpful. And right now, she needed help.

  Desperately.

  "Very well." Berty pouted and leaned back.

  "Ah, so this is about Edward." Lady Southridge turned knowing eyes to Bethanny.

  "Yes." Bethanny swallowed the lump in her throat at the mention of his name. "You see, Lord Graham and I… that is, we…" She stumbled trying to, in some sort of ladylike fashion, disclose the nature of the situation.

  "Blast it all. They kissed! And the duke saw the whole thing—"

  "Not the whole thing," Beatrix cut in, her eyes darting between Bethanny and Beatrix with a worried crease to her brow.

  "Berty!" Bethanny cried.

  "It's true!"

  "Yes, but—" Bethanny started.

  "You didn't have to put it so—" Beatrix interjected.

  "Honestly?" Berty finished.

  "Girls?" Lady Southridge asked softly.

  Bethanny turned her furious gaze from Berty to Lady Southridge.

  "I'm quite certain that I have surmised the situation." She nodded confidently.

  "Er, how?" Bethanny asked, her brow furrowing in confusion. It wasn't as if they'd stated, or interrupted each other, with much information.

  "You see, I was actually going to contact you, Bethanny dear, to see if you knew the cause for my dear," she shook her head as if exasperated, "deluded brother's departure to Scotland. Especially when things were going so well."

  "And?" Bethanny prodded, still not comprehending what exactly she was trying to explain.

  "And, knowing that Edward was… more amorous than I anticipated, coupled with the information that the duke had caught your… shall we say, affection for one another? It simply all makes sense. The question is, what are we going to do to remedy the situation?" She placed her hands placidly on her lap as she warmly regarded Bethanny.