The Earl Plays With Fire

by Isabelle Goddard

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I won’t,’ he said flatly.

  ‘Why not? If you’re scared we might be recognised, I could go in disguise.’

  ‘It gets worse.’

  ‘No, it doesn’t, I can disguise myself very well as a boy and go as your friend.’

  He looked at her slim figure appraisingly. ‘I’m sure you can, but I’m not taking you to any gaming hell.’

  ‘I don’t want to go to a hell, just a place where I can win back the money.’

  ‘That’s a gaming hell.’

  ‘Please, Benedict.’

  ‘No, no and definitely no.’

  ‘Then you won’t help me.’

  ‘I’ve told you what to do. Go to your aunt and confess. The worst she can do is to pack you off to Spain. Would that matter so much now?’

  She flushed at the implication, but knew that he was right. She supposed that she must find the right opportunity to tell Lady Blythe what had happened. But then her aunt would be sure to tell her Spanish relatives of her disgrace and from the moment she arrived in Madrid, they would be watching her every movement. She wished she’d never left Argentina.

  In the distance Richard had ridden up to the small group standing beneath the trees. Sophia had joined her sister and Sir Julian near the carriage, as anxious now to leave as she had been earlier to find him. She scowled even more ferociously as she recognised the man seated astride the glossy black horse picking its way towards them.

  Richard Veryan slid from the saddle as Christabel turned. He came forward and bowed just a little too deeply.

  ‘I understand from your brother that felicitations are in order.’ His voice was harsh, slightly disdainful. ‘May I take the opportunity, Miss Tallis, to congratulate you and Sir Julian, on your forthcoming marriage,’ and here he bowed extravagantly towards the other man. ‘I wish you both all the happiness you are capable of.’

  Christabel flushed, knowing the double edge of those words, but executed a dignified bow in response. Her fiance smiled happily and without guile.

  ‘Thank you, Lord Veryan. Your good wishes are most welcome. I consider myself to be blessed indeed to have won this remarkable lady for my future wife, a gift beyond anything I deserve.’

  Richard’s expression was sardonic. ‘You must not sell yourself short, Sir Julian. I’m sure Miss Tallis would be the first to agree that your honesty and loyalty are qualities to aspire to.’

  Sir Julian blinked at this sentiment, but his smile broadened even further. He felt supremely happy and nothing was going to spoil this wonderful day for him. Sophia stood close by, an interested observer. Richard’s comments appeared to be coming from between gritted teeth and offered a small hope. She might yet salvage something from the plans that had gone so badly awry.

  Pinning on her most enticing smile, she turned to the happy lover. ‘I believe, Sir Julian, that you were involved in plans for the canal which has been constructed to feed the lake. I would love to see it and understand exactly how it works. Would you be good enough to take me?’

  If Sir Julian felt this was a strange request coming at the very moment of his betrothal and from a girl who had hitherto not shown the slightest interest in engineering, he was far too polite to show it. Willing to do anything for anybody on this glorious morning, particularly a close relative of his beloved, he immediately agreed.

  ‘It appears we must leave you, sir,’ and he bowed his farewell. ‘Thank you again for your good wishes.’

  He began to walk towards the Chinese bridge with Sophia in tow, already beginning a complicated discourse on his understanding of the water-management system. Equally bewildered by her sister’s request, Christabel turned to follow them, but was stopped in her tracks by Richard roughly grabbing her arm. He hardly waited for the others to be out of earshot before grinding out, ‘You can’t really mean to marry that man!’

  ‘I beg your pardon!’ She was genuinely shocked.

  ‘I think you understand me, but, just in case, I was questioning your sanity in agreeing to marry Julian Edgerton.’

  ‘How dare you presume to question whom I marry!’

  ‘I dare to presume because I seem to know you better than you know yourself. But even you must be aware of how unsuited you are to each other.’

  The red cascade of curls trembled with anger. ‘You are insulting, sir!’

  ‘I would call it honest rather than insulting, but it’s better to be insulting than concur in this charade.’

  ‘You are misinformed, my lord. There is no charade. Sir Julian and I have known each other for many months and have agreed that we will suit admirably.’

  She wondered why she was defending her choice of husband to Richard of all men but she felt compelled to continue and found herself declaring, ‘Sir Julian is a man of the highest honour and integrity.’

  ‘I’m sure he is. He’s also a gudgeon if he thinks he can control you.’

  ‘No man controls me and Sir Julian is far too wise to wish to do so.’

  ‘But not wise enough to refrain from marrying you,’ he retaliated.

  She glared furiously at the tall, elegant figure in front of her and responded in a voice crackling with ice, ‘This is mere ranting and I will listen no more. I bid you good day, sir.’

  Her cream skirts swished to one side as she made to walk away. But Richard would not concede. Ignoring her cold fury and the summary nature of his dismissal, he called out, ‘If you value his happiness as much as your own, don’t do it.’

  She retraced her steps and stood looking directly up into his eyes, now dark and glittering.

  ‘If we are to give each other marital advice, I would suggest that wedding a child fresh from the nursery is unlikely to guarantee success. I, at least, intend to marry a man of my own age and one I have known for many months.’

  Brushing aside his supposed alliance with Domino, he coldly countered her logic. ‘But how much of a guarantee is that? You once agreed to marry another man of your own age and one you had known a very long time, but that alliance wasn’t too permanent, was it?’

  He smiled derisively at her. ‘At the moment Sir Julian is living in his own little paradise, but how long do you give him? He would be well advised to grow steel armour in the very near future, say three weeks from his wedding day.’

  ‘You have been as offensive as it is possible to be, Lord Veryan, but nothing you say can touch our happiness.’

  He grimaced. ‘How charming! And how strange that there was a day when I felt that too. I looked deep into your green eyes, touched your luminous skin, tangled my hands in that wild red hair—and what a premonition that was—and believed that I was as happy as it was possible to be, that nothing could ever touch that happiness. How wrongly can a man judge!’

  Christabel swallowed hard. ‘Yesterday you assured me that you considered the past dead. Can you not accept that we made a mistake and forget?’

  ‘You made a mistake, Miss Tallis. For myself, the past is nothing. But I find it difficult to forget those others for whom the pain still lives. But then you never cared too much about them—friends, parents, all could be sacrificed. All that mattered was that you had your desire, a desire, it seems, which died almost as soon as it flickered into life.’

  He was being unjust, deliberately stoking his anger against her, but he found himself powerless to stop.

  ‘You are unfair to accuse me of not caring for the pain I caused. You must know otherwise. It has been an open wound for all these years.’ Her voice faltered and unshed tears stung her eyelids. She steadied herself and tried for a calm she was far from feeling.

  ‘In my youth I made a mistaken attachment—I have freely confessed it—and I have paid for that mistake. If you once cared anything for me, can you not find it in your heart, if not to wish me well, at least not to wish me ill.’

  For a moment he felt an overpowering weariness. Had he not made the decision just hours ago to put this anguish behind him? So why was he continuing
to haunt this woman, to pile hurt upon hurt? She saw the trouble in his shadowed eyes and the frown that appeared between the dark brows and pushed her advantage.

  ‘Because our betrothal did not succeed, that is no reason to suppose that my marriage to another will not.’

  ‘If so, that other will need to be a very different man from the one you have chosen. He will need to be a man who matches you in strength of character and depth of feeling. For all his honour and integrity, Sir Julian is not that man.’

  He spoke the words slowly and deliberately, his fierce gaze searching, seeking, tugging at her soul. For a moment she forgot they were antagonists engaged in cruel conflict and flamed beneath his regard. For what seemed an age they devoured each other with their eyes, neither speaking. Then recovering a frigid poise, she snapped back her response.

  ‘And who would you suggest, Lord Veryan? Where is this model of manhood I must aspire to? Surely not yourself?’

  ‘I would never again willingly endure such an ordeal.’ His tone held a bitter intensity. ‘You say you have suffered. I hope so indeed, for my years have been every bit as painful.’

  His voice sliced through her skin like a scalpel. She could only murmur, ‘I know nothing of your life in Argentina, but I cannot imagine it was devoid of all pleasure.’

  ‘Argentina?’ he questioned bleakly. ‘I refer not to life there, but to the constant pain of living with betrayal.’ And then in a searing aside, ‘Naturally you would know nothing of that.’

  ‘On the contrary, I am no stranger to betrayal,’ she said in a low voice, ‘though you would judge it well deserved.’

  She found herself moving towards him, drawn by the warmth of his body and a strange need to offer comfort. She resisted the urge to take his hand but could not stop herself pleading, ‘I thought we had agreed, Richard, to put injuries aside. I wish you well in the alliance you are doubtless about to make. Can you not wish the same for me?’

  His eyes found hers and for an instant there was an answering warmth. The taut lines of his face relaxed and his mouth softened in the way she remembered so well, a prelude to his kiss. She waited, hardly daring to breathe. But then his whole body visibly tightened and his face resumed its hardened expression. When he spoke, it was clear that anger had reasserted itself.

  ‘My relationship with Miss de Silva has nothing to say in the matter,’ he ground out. ‘The truth remains that the man you propose to marry is not worthy of you.’

  She took a step back as though he had slapped her in the face, and observing her shock, his anger flared again. ‘Good grief, can you not see what a travesty this marriage is? Have we suffered so much for so little?!’

  His wrath was answered by a newly awakened fury in her. ‘Allow me to tell you, sir, that I find your sentiments abhorrent and your conduct highly improper.’

  They stood facing each other so close they could taste one another’s breath. Both had been shaken by the intensity of their anger. Both had felt the familiar throb of desire, which neither could acknowledge. Christabel drew her slim figure erect and confronted him with eyes which glinted like green glass.

  ‘I have borne much in this interview, sir, but will not do so again.’ Her voice was brittle with feeling. ‘Leave me now, please, and ensure that you never again approach me.’

  His face expressionless, Richard turned on his heels and scooped up the reins of his mount grazing quietly nearby. Without a backward glance, he flung himself into the saddle and dug his heels into the flanks of the startled beast. Christabel remained where she stood as the horse bounded forwards, her face equally impassive, but her heart beating tumultuously.

  Sir Julian, having by this time exhausted his knowledge of canal engineering, was in time to see Richard ride furiously away. Clearly there had been an altercation.

  ‘Let us make haste, Miss Sophia,’ he said in a worried tone, ‘I fear all may not be well with your sister. That man—Lord Veryan—appeared extremely angry and I am concerned that she may have suffered some mischief from him.’

  ‘That man has known Christabel all her life, Sir Julian, and is hardly like to prove a threat. In fact, he knows her so well…’ and here Sophia produced her trump card with a fitting display of naive innocence ‘…that they were once promised to each other.’

  ‘Betrothed?’ Sir Julian looked bewildered. ‘How is this?’

  ‘Oh, I do beg your pardon. You didn’t know? How stupid of me. I assumed that Christabel would have told you or that you would have heard mention of it—it was the town’s biggest on dit for many weeks. But perhaps you were away from London at the time?’

  ‘What happened exactly?’ he asked weakly.

  Sophia was admirably succinct. ‘She jilted him three weeks before the wedding.’

  ‘Good gracious,’ was all he could utter before Christabel joined them. He managed to smile solicitously down at the lovely face, trying to blot out Sophia’s last words.

  ‘My dear…’ he patted her hand ineffectually ‘…I do hope all is well.’

  Still reeling from the encounter with Richard, she withdrew her hand with a little shrug of impatience. ‘Naturally, Sir Julian. What could be wrong?’

  ‘Then shall we continue our stroll in the park? The weather looks as though it will hold for some hours.’

  His face was hopeful, but she longed for solitude and the latter won. ‘Will you forgive me if I cut our walk a little short today? There are things awaiting my attention at home.’ It was a feeble excuse, but it would have to do.

  ‘Sophia, are you coming?’ Christabel was already climbing into the waiting carriage.

  Her sister was equally quick with her response. She would return to Mount Street on foot and Sir Julian would escort her. ‘For I don’t doubt that he could do with some company,’ she said repressively.

  Christabel stared hard at her sister, but the bland face gave nothing away. Beside her Sir Julian stood looking dazed, even shocked. She knew that she could no longer bear to be in his company. Richard’s strictures rang ceaselessly in her ears and she had to get away. She gave a sign to Stebbings that she wished him to take the reins and in a moment the carriage had jolted forwards.

  The journey to Mount Street was accomplished in less than a quarter of an hour, but she hardly noticed. She should be used to Richard’s animosity by now. From the moment they’d literally bumped into one another in Hyde Park, it had been plain there was to be no truce between them. Yesterday’s interlude was simply a pause in hostilities. His conduct had swung between indifference, discourtesy, even aggression, intermingled with moments of rekindled desire. But whatever extremes he’d loosed upon her, they seemed always to proceed from a deep-seated antagonism, a fierce desire to make her regret what she’d done.

  Yet even when she was thinking the worst of him, she’d sensed a kindness that he couldn’t quite suppress, some feeling for her from the past that he couldn’t quite dismiss. And today he’d confessed that she had hurt him badly. That must mean that he’d loved her once, not as a sop to parental wishes, nor as a trophy, but deeply and heartfelt. If that were true, she had judged him very wrongly. If that were true, it would explain why he could not overcome his anger, why he was still her enemy.

  And now his love was no more: he’d made that plain. He didn’t want her for himself, but he had no intention of letting her go quietly into a new life. He was seeking to destroy even that solace. Until this morning she had never truly grasped the power of his ill will. This morning he’d made a mockery of her wish to consign the past to oblivion. It would always be with her. Despite the warmth of the sun that flooded through the open carriage, the thought made her hands shake and her teeth start to chatter as though she suffered a severe chill.

  At home she climbed to her room with a bone-weariness, her feet dragging from stair to stair. Once in the safety of her chamber, she flung herself on the bed and lay there in a state of utter fatigue. The day’s events—Richard, Julian, even Sophia—rushed past her unseeing eyes in
a chaotic blur. Even Sophia! Her sister’s behaviour was not the least odd thing that had happened. She wondered what ailed the younger woman.

  An hour later the front door slammed and purposeful steps sounded outside her room. Sophia jerked her head around the door, looking unbecomingly flushed, but with a smug expression on her face.

  ‘I’m sure you’ll be pleased to know that I more than compensated for your absence,’ she taunted.

  Christabel stared at her uncomprehendingly. Her head had begun to ache. ‘What are you talking about, Sophia?’

  ‘I’m talking about your fiance. Well, I presume he still is your fiance. I’ve just returned with Sir Julian and it’s clear to me that he’s deeply upset by your behaviour. I’ve tried to smooth things over but I can’t be sure how successful I’ve been.’

  Christabel sat up swiftly, her indignation banishing the incipient headache.

  ‘I don’t understand what right you think you have to speak to me in this fashion or indeed to discuss me with Sir Julian, but be very sure that I have given you none.’

  Sophia remained in the doorway, her arms crossed in defiance. ‘I know nothing about rights,’ she declared truthfully, ‘and of course I don’t possess your rather obvious enticements, but I think I know a little better how to treat a man. And it’s not with the contempt you deal out.’

  ‘What nonsense you talk.’

  She laid her weary head back on the pillow once more. There was a grain of truth in Sophia’s pronouncement, but only a grain. And why was her sister so exercised on Sir Julian’s behalf?

  ‘Contempt!’ Sophia reiterated ringingly. ‘You be come engaged to an honourable man and immediately begin consorting with your old lover. You accept Sir Julian’s ring and then refuse to spend time with him.’

  Christabel no longer seemed to be listening, but this did not deter her sister. Sophia was becoming ever more agitated, her face working furiously.

  ‘How do you think that makes him feel?’ she harangued, taking angry strides into the room and pointing dramatically at her guilty sister. ‘You don’t deserve his love!’