Courting the Countess

by Donna Hatch

  Eloping with Tristan would hurt Richard deeply, and her regard for him had grown to the point that she could not drive a proverbial dagger through his heart in repayment for his kindness—not even to marry Tristan.

  She drew herself up, resolute. Her feelings no longer mattered. Marrying Richard would be the honorable path to take—to please her father, to avoid scandal, but most importantly, to protect both Richard’s character and his heart, even if she didn’t possess much of it. In addition, Tristan had made his position clear, so her options narrowed.

  Elizabeth stepped closer to Richard and tightened her grasp on his arm. “It was kind of you to come for my benefit, my lord.”

  His actions had been both kind and thoughtful. It was one thing to attend a poetry reading because one loved it; attending to spend time with another was an offering.

  His eyes softened and he rested his hand on top of hers. “Your company made attending tonight a pleasure, my lady.”

  Richard seemed to need her in some way, or at least he needed her not to reject him. Yes, she’d marry Richard and try to be a good and faithful wife to him.

  “Good evening, all.” Tristan bowed and moved to speak with another group.

  Richard turned to Elizabeth. “May I bring you a glass of lemonade?”

  “That would be lovely, thank you.”

  As Richard moved away, Mary watched Elizabeth narrowly. “You must admit he’s a delightful gentleman, Lizzie. You’re fortunate to be betrothed to such a man, especially considering the circumstances.”

  “Why do I sense a word of censure there?” Elizabeth said.

  “A man of his caliber lays his heart at your feet, and you’re dancing around it as if you aren’t sure you wish to pick it up.”

  Elizabeth studied her fingers. If only she could transfer her love from Tristan to Richard. At the very least, she’d transfer her loyalty, her full loyalty.

  Joanna’s court came to pay her homage, and the young bucks surrounded them, leaving the sisters unable, to Elizabeth’s relief, to converse further.

  Richard arrived with enough glasses of lemonade for Elizabeth and her sisters.

  She smiled at him. “Thank you.” His attentiveness filled her with warmth.

  “Truly, it’s my pleasure.” Sincerity wove into every word. He held out an arm and she took it, allowing him to lead her around the room to mingle with the other guests. Three matrons clustered together, oblivious to the rest of the crowd, their faces twisted in anger and their voices carrying to Elizabeth.

  “…if we encouraged our daughters to act with such outrageous behavior, we’d all have lords for sons-in-law. All they have to do is be caught alone with an earl’s rakish brother and have a family member threaten a duel and”—she snapped her fingers—“countess in an instant.”

  A chill ran through Elizabeth’s veins. “The gossip is never going to end,” she whispered.

  Richard halted, then with his mouth fixed in stern determination, he broke into the ladies’ circle. “Mrs. Hampton, I don’t believe I’ve had the honor of presenting to you my charming betrothed, Lady Elizabeth.”

  The matrons turned, their mouths agape, and blanched. If Elizabeth hadn’t been frozen with humiliation, she might have found the view comical.

  One of the women wearing a peacock feather in her hair began stammering, “Oh, Lord Averston. Er, no, I don’t believe we’ve had…the…er…pleasure.”

  Richard spoke smoothly, his voice quiet, yet riddled with warning. “Since my wife-to-be is rather shy, I trust you will make her feel welcome any time you find yourself in the same gathering, Mrs. Hampton.” He fixed a piercing stare upon each of them in turn. “But then, since you aren’t exactly in the same social circle as a ducal family, I don’t suppose that it will happen often.”

  Elizabeth almost gasped at the veiled insult.

  Mrs. Hampton managed, “Of course, my lord.”

  He nodded as if satisfied, began to leave, then turned back. “Oh, one more thing; I trust you don’t believe those ridiculous rumors about her and my brother. No one who knows her would ever believe it. No true Christian would spread such rumors.”

  Mrs. Hampton shook her head, her feathers madly waving. “No, my lord. I mean, of course we don’t believe that, my lord.”

  “Very good. Do give my best to your husband.”

  The color in her face faded into the color of an old dust rag. “Yes, my lord.”

  He gave the gossips a last stern look before he led Elizabeth away. Elizabeth let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. He’d defended her. He’d stood up to the gossips and rebuked them with a firmness they wouldn’t soon forget. He’d protected her from their hurtful words, and possibly even stilled their venomous tongues.

  Richard lowered his head to hers. “I’m sorry you heard that. I’d hoped after the ball and our public carriage ride in Hyde Park, those wagging tongues would have tired.” He awarded her an intimate smile.

  Her humiliation faded as gratitude and growing affection warmed her.

  He added under his breath, “Apparently the lower circles still delight in demeaning their betters.” A self-deprecating lilt touched his mouth that let her know his snobbery was all in fun.

  She couldn’t help but return his smile. “That was a terrible dressing-down.”

  “They deserved worse. I’ll not have anyone criticize you.”

  She hesitated, fearing the truth. “Because you don’t want your name stained by association?”

  He faced her. “Because I don’t want your name stained. You don’t deserve it.”

  For a moment, Elizabeth couldn’t formulate a reply. She’d never expected to find a staunch defender in the man who knew the full truth, who’d agreed to marry her only to save his brother from a duel, who probably still loved another. Despite all this, his honor and chivalry won.

  She managed, “Thank you.”

  He placed his hand over hers where it rested on his sleeve, and resumed walking. Elizabeth relaxed. She was safe with him. Safer than she’d felt in a long time. With anyone. Richard would not hurt her; he would protect her. Under his protection, she might find the courage to become her own woman rather than a frightened mouse that cowered at every shadow. Gratitude and admiration filled her entire body with the light of hope.

  Looking into his eyes, she smiled, hoping he saw her optimism. “What did you mean when you mentioned that lady’s husband?”

  A sheepish smile curved his lips. “He’s our family physician. It was a reminder that my displeasure with him—or his wife—might result in losing our family as patients, along with any friends with whom we choose to disclose our discontentment.”

  “Ah. How very ruthless of you, my lord,” she teased.

  His eyes crinkled. “Thank you. I’ve worked very hard to build a reputation of ruthlessness.”

  Richard came to a standstill and all mirth vanished from his expression. Elizabeth followed his gaze. Leticia Wentworth stood in their path. Her gaze locked with Richard’s. The bloom in her cheeks faded and her mouth went slack. She looked absolutely shattered. Elizabeth’s breath froze.

  Miss Wentworth drew an audible breath and inclined her head. “My lord.”

  “Miss Wentworth.” A faint hoarseness roughened Richard’s voice and tension rippled in the air.

  Elizabeth wanted to disappear. She tried to look away but couldn’t make her eyes cooperate. It was like watching a terrible carriage accident unfolding slowly, dream-like.

  He drummed his fingers on his thigh. “How…is your family?”

  “Well, thank you.” Leticia folded one arm over her chest as if trying to protect her wounded heart.

  An awkward moment passed.

  Richard inclined his head. “Well, good evening, then.” He’d managed to steady his voice.

  “Good evening, my lord. Lady Elizabeth.”

  “Miss Wentworth,” Elizabeth managed through looming tears. I’ll be good to him, she wanted to tell her, but she
couldn’t speak another word.

  Leticia nodded to them and moved away with her head high. Only the fist clenched at her side gave away signs of emotion.

  A weighted silence pressed down on Elizabeth and she refused to look at Richard, terrified at what she might see in his expression.

  After a few nearly unbearably tense moments, Richard’s voice broke in. “Come, Elizabeth, your sisters await. I’ll escort you to your carriage.”

  Almost afraid of what he must be thinking, Elizabeth looked up at him. She found gentleness. Sorrow. But no anger. No resentment. No blame. He laid a hand over hers where it rested on her arm and gave it a tiny squeeze. Amazed, she turned her hand over and returned the pressure, making another silent vow of loyalty to him.

  After he guided her to her sisters, he waited as they retrieved their wraps, then escorted them to their waiting carriage. Without a word, he handed them in. After helping Elizabeth in, he held her gloved hand a moment longer than necessary, pressed her hand to his lips and kissed it. She had the insane desire to tear off her gloves and ask him to do it again on her skin.

  He finally broke his silence. “Until we meet again, dear lady.”

  “My lord.” Her voice quivered.

  He stepped back while the footman closed the door. As the carriage pulled away, Elizabeth sank against the cushions.

  Richard Barrett was an uncommonly good man. No gentleman such as he deserved to be hurt or humiliated. Though a part of her heart might always belong to Tristan, she vowed to be a countess who would honor Richard and do all within her power to heal his wounded heart.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Standing in the main hall of Averston Castle in the middle of the country, Richard linked his fingers together behind his back, hoping to appear calm as the carriages of his wedding guests neared. He’d spent part of the morning sketching an old barn at the edge of his property, a soothing act that helped settle his nerves and fortify him for his next role—host and bridegroom.

  He eyed the great hall appreciatively. Though understaffed due to his own neglect as a bachelor, his servants had done an admirable job on the main floor and guest rooms. Windows sparkled, the floor shone like a mirror, and woodwork gleamed. His mother would have been pleased.

  He remembered as a child peeking through the stairway railings watching Mother, so lovely in her evening gown, greeting her guests in the main hall. Yet on the heels of his fond memories of his mother followed the stark reality of her betrayal. His shoulders tensed as the memory of her riding away assailed his thoughts. Mingled sorrow, loss, and anger arose from deep inside. In moments like this, Richard reverted back to a bewildered, abandoned child. That same loss and fear continuously haunted him like a merciless monster, waiting to catch him unawares, whispering that he wasn’t loved, that he didn’t deserve such affection, and that no one could be trusted with his heart.

  He shoved the lurking monster back to a dark corner but could never completely banish it, no matter how many times he tried. It always returned another day to wound him.

  Voices from outside announced his guests’ arrival. The ducal family disembarked from their carriages and swept inside surrounded by dozens of servants, and enough trunks and baggage to supply an army. Richard spotted his betrothed standing quietly among the bustle, the one spot of calm amidst the chaos. He waded through the crowd to her.

  She brightened as her gaze fell on him. “Good afternoon, Richard.”

  He smiled at her use of his Christian name and raised her hand to his lips. “Welcome, Elizabeth. I hope your journey was pleasant.”

  The corners of her pale eyes crinkled in mirth. “Less raucous than our arrival here. I hope your home will survive the upheaval.”

  Her good humor eased his tension. “You’d be surprised what my home has survived.”

  Her eyes warmed and a true smile touched her lips, transforming her from merely pretty to truly lovely. Her serenity eased the tension in his shoulders. He’d expected her to be nervous, but she seemed calm, even happy. Perhaps she welcomed their union after all.

  He turned to the others and raised his voice to an authoritative tone. “Welcome, esteemed guests.” He scrambled for a way to sound gracious to the ducal family despite his conflicting emotions that tempted him to make it clear he wanted nothing to do with them based on their treatment of his betrothed.

  When the noise died down, and all eyes turned to him, he fell into the voice and posture he used when addressing the House of Lords. “I hope you will all be comfortable during this joyous occasion. I am honored to join our houses.” There. He’d said that without any tremor.

  “The honor is ours, Lord Averston,” the duke replied. Was that a warning light in his eyes?

  Richard led Elizabeth to the servants standing in a line. “Lady Elizabeth, this is Mrs. Brown, the head housekeeper. This is the butler, Handley. They have both been with the family for years and you may depend on them for anything you require.”

  Elizabeth nodded to Mrs. Brown, who dropped into a respectful curtsy.

  Richard turned to the others and gestured to Elizabeth. “My intended bride, the future Countess Averston.”

  The servants all bowed and curtseyed. Mrs. Brown organized servants to lead guests to their rooms, while the butler ordered footmen to relocate trunks and hatboxes. Lady Elizabeth made an elegant farewell curtsey to Richard before she followed a maid up the stairs. She paused, glancing over her shoulder, and offered a smile bordering on flirtatiousness.

  Cheeky girl. The prospect of marriage to her began to sound more and more appealing. Yet, he reminded himself not to get too attached. She’d proved herself an innocent rather than the immoral hussy he’d originally feared, but she may still become as untrustworthy as his mother. He must remember to shield his heart.

  Throughout the day, a steady stream of guests arrived. Lady Elizabeth made no further appearance; most likely, she rested after her long journey. Richard missed her smile.

  Rhys Kensington, his oldest and closest friend, appeared late that afternoon. Richard nearly threw his arms around his friend’s shoulders. Instead, he settled for a strong handshake.

  “Kensington. Thank you for coming.”

  Kensington drew him into a hug and heartily slapped his back. “You didn’t think I’d miss your wedding, did you?”

  “I wasn’t certain if you’d returned to England yet.”

  Kensington grinned. “A duke’s daughter, eh? Couldn’t you have done better than that?”

  Richard followed his lead into the absurd. “Unfortunately, the princess refused my suit.”

  “Hmm. Should have gone after foreign princesses, then.”

  “You know how I despise travel by sea.”

  “They wouldn’t come to you?” Rhys opened his eyes wide in mock surprise.

  “It seemed rude to ask.”

  “Ever the gentleman.”

  Grinning, Richard shook his head at their ridiculous exchange. He’d missed his friend. “Do you reside in London now?”

  Kensington shrugged. “When I’m not imposing on distant relatives.”

  “Do stay here when you need to escape London in the summer.”

  “Won’t having me underfoot be inconvenient while you and your new wife become…acquainted?” His eyes glinted wickedly.

  Richard punched him lightly in the arm.

  Sobering, Kensington studied him. “No regrets?”

  “Regrets?”

  “I thought you and Leticia Wentworth…”

  Richard gave a firm shake of his head. “I am persuaded Lady Elizabeth is a better match.”

  Kensington’s piercing gaze left Richard with the urge to squirm. “There’s more to it.”

  “Don’t believe every rumor you hear. I have no regrets.”

  “The rumors lately are all about Pemberton’s daughter marrying one of the most eligible and elusive young bachelors in England.”

  Richard shook his head at the thought of such a romantic description of hi
mself. “You must be weary from your journey. No doubt you’d like to bathe and change.”

  “I would like to get out of my dirt.”

  Richard waved over a footman. “Show Captain Kensington to his room.”

  They parted, Richard’s spirits lifted by the arrival of his friend. As the dinner hour approached, Richard met with his guests in the drawing room and saw to it that everyone had something to drink while they waited for the others to arrive. Tristan had failed to make an appearance yet, but Richard refused to indulge in taunting visions of Tristan lying wounded on the side of the road. He would be here.

  When Elizabeth entered the drawing room, Richard mentally patted himself on the back for his good fortune. Not only did she look beautiful in her cream lace evening gown and pearls, but her welcoming smile reassured him.

  He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and led her to Kensington. “May I present Captain Kensington formerly of His Majesty’s Cavalry? My betrothed, Lady Elizabeth.”

  Kensington awarded her a wide, toothy grin. “It is, indeed, an unprecedented delight to finally meet you, Lady Elizabeth.” He bowed low over her hand. “I shall have to speak with you later and warn you all about Richard’s failings so they don’t come as a shock after you marry him.”

  A sparkle entered Elizabeth’s eye. “I look forward to that discussion, Captain Kensington. No doubt the perfect image could use a bit of ruffling.” She glanced up at Richard, the corners of her mouth curving, a coyness in her smile he’d never seen before.

  Richard leaned toward her ear, but spoke loud enough for Kensington to hear. “You would do well to remember that half of what Kensington tells you is a twisted version of the truth.”

  Kensington laughed. “Except when I say what a lovely and gracious lady you are, and how lucky Richard is that you’ve agreed to marry him.”

  Elizabeth tilted her head to one side, and lightly tapped a long slender finger against her lower lip, a movement clearly not lost on Kensington. “I suspect you leave a long line of broken hearts everywhere you go, Captain.”

  Kensington sighed gustily. “I certainly hope so.” That wicked glint returned. “I might give up my ways for one as beautiful as you. Shall I carry you off and save you from Lord Stuffed Shirt?”