Saved by the Scoundrel: A Smithfield Market Regency Romance: Book 2 (A Smithfield Market Regency Romance )

by Rose Pearson

  A sad smile pulled at Lord Brandeis’s lips. “Ah, but you see, Miss Devonshire, I have already tried as much. I’m afraid that, no matter what I do, I shall never measure up to Weston. He has done everything right, has done everything well, and I will always be something of a failure in my father’s eyes.”

  The grief in his expression made Caroline’s heart wrench, despite her determination not to feel anything for this man. Peter was quite right to say that there was more to him than she had first thought. Caroline began to feel as though she were only just touching the surface of Lord Brandeis’s true character.

  “And so you have simply decided to become the worst version of yourself?” she asked, gently, pressing his arm. “Or is it that you are trying to convince yourself that you do not care?”

  He stopped walking, turning to face her as he dropped her hand from his arm. Sparks began to flood her vision, her stomach filling with butterflies. Had she said too much? Had she spoken out of turn? She was not quite sure just how much the nobility spoke of their innermost thoughts and feelings, but she was not one to shy away from such things. Caroline recalled just how often she had spoken to Mrs. Beeson about the pain and grief she felt over her parent's death and her brother’s absence, finding it cathartic to express herself so fully.

  “You are quite an unusual character, Miss Devonshire,” Lord Brandeis said, slowly, his gaze roving over her features. “You are not afraid to ask me questions that not another living soul would even dream of.”

  She held his gaze steadily. “No, I am not,” she admitted, firmly. “But the onus now lies with you, Lord Brandeis. Are you to answer my questions or remain silent?” Tilting her head a little, she gave him a small smile. “I can assure you that, from experience, it is better to speak the truth than to have it all hidden away inside.”

  There came no easy smile to his face as he glanced at her before dropping his gaze to the ground.

  “I do not take kindly to someone trying to pry their way into my heart,” he said, slowly, with only a hint of menace to his words. “I am, by nature, a private person, Miss Devonshire – I mean, Lady Winter.”

  She did not back down. “Then can you not pretend, in much the same way as I am?” Seeing his curious look, she gave him a small smile, relieved that he did not appear to be angry with her, at least. “Can you not pretend, Lord Brandeis, that you are not that closed off, quiet man who keeps all he thinks to himself? Just for the short time that we are here?”

  He grimaced but did not immediately refuse her. “That would take some doing, Lady Winter.”

  “Then I shall train you, if I must,” she suggested, with a quick grin. “I am rather good at speaking my mind and sharing my feelings with those I trust.” Her smile slipped as she realized what she had said, her stomach tightening at the gleam that immediately appeared in his eye. “If you can trust me, Lord Brandeis, then that would be a good first step.”

  Letting out a long breath, Lord Brandeis shoved one hand through his carefully styled hair, ruining it completely. “I suppose you have learned, Lady Winter – ”

  “Caroline, please,” she interjected, growing tired of being referred to so formally and, in addition, hoping that it might bring them a little closer.

  He hesitated, then smiled. “Caroline. As I was saying, I am sure you have realized that I have something of a disagreeable relationship with my father.”

  She lifted a brow. “Yes, given that you said as much.”

  He colored. “Indeed. Although, to my shame, I did lose my temper somewhat at the dinner table last evening.” Shaking his head, he ran one hand through his hair again, his lips thinning. “I grow weary of being chastised, I’m afraid. I pretend, you see. I pretend that I do not care but yet my behavior shows otherwise, does it not?” His lips tipped in a rueful smile and Caroline felt herself respond to him at once.

  “Yes, Brandeis, I’m afraid it does,” she said softly, as they began to walk along the hallway once again. “Whilst I will admit to being angry with you for dragging me into the conversation, I was aware that there was something deeply painful going on in your heart.”

  He winced as they walked side by side into the ballroom, their footsteps echoing. “I confess myself frustrated that I have not managed to hide my inner turmoil from you, Caroline.”

  “Perhaps I notice more than most.”

  “Or perhaps you are the only one who cares.”

  It was as though someone had lit a fire in the ballroom and sent the heat in her direction. Caroline felt her cheeks burn, refusing to press her hands to them for fear that she would draw yet more attention to herself. The truth was, she was rather confused about Lord Brandeis. He was equally infuriating and perplexing, but she was beginning to detect within her own heart, a slow-burning desire to help him. Not in the way she had agreed, but in a deeper, more intimate sense. She wanted to discover what it was that troubled him so when it came to his father, wanted to know what kind of gentleman he could be if he threw aside the pain that came with his father’s constant criticism.

  “Do you think me truly terrible, Caroline?”

  Lord Brandeis was now looking out of the French doors, his gaze fixed on the cold, wintery scene in front of them instead of turning towards her. She heard the lilt in his voice, knew that he was doing his best to speak without letting her see the depths of his pain, but could tell that his question was a genuine one.

  “I believe, Brandeis, that you are not truly the man you appear to be,” she said slowly, deciding to be honest and forthright. “You may even have convinced yourself that you are, in fact, nothing more than a scoundrel and a rake, that you would rather like to throw yourself into pleasure in all its forms for the rest of your life. But that may be, in fact, nothing more than a pretense.”

  His eyes shot to hers, looking at her with such intensity that, for a moment, she quite lost her breath.

  “A pretense?” he said, slowly, frowning now. “In what way, might I ask?”

  Pushing away the niggling worry in her heart that continuing to speak with such honesty would either push him away from her or have his anger spill over, Caroline took in a deep breath and gazed back into his eyes.

  “You do not really know who you are, Brandeis,” she suggested, softly, seeing his eyes widen just a little. “You have told yourself that you do not care what your father thinks and so have thrown yourself headlong into everything you know he dislikes. It is almost a punishment, I suppose, for you are attempting to cause your father pain by doing everything he hates. But you have only hurt yourself in the process, for in doing so, you have come to realize that regardless of what you do – whether you try to live up to his expectations or do everything you can to reject his guidance, he will still look on Weston with a favorable eye.” Her speech came to an end and she spread her hands, not knowing what else to say. “That is what I think, at least.”

  There was nothing but silence for a long time. Caroline felt the minutes tick by slowly, aware that Lord Brandeis had turned from her and had his gaze fixed on something outside. His jaw worked, his hands curling into tight fists – and Caroline felt a cold hand of fear wrap around her heart.

  “You are quite wrong, Miss Devonshire.”

  His words were sharp, piercing her skin.

  Snorting in derision, Lord Brandeis turned to face her, his eyes dark. “Do you truly think that you can make that sort of judgment about my character based on such a short acquaintance of both me and my family?” He rolled his eyes, his lip curling. “I asked for your help, not because I required it, but because I find my father’s constant whining more than a little tiring, that is all. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  Seeing that he was now upset rather than angry, Caroline took a small step forward and laid a hand on his arm. “Brandeis, I did not mean – ”

  He jerked away from her, pulling his arm out of her grasp. “I think I shall find myself a stiff drink, Miss Devonshire. Do excuse me.”

  Caroline stared after
him in shock as he turned away from her, his legs striding across the ballroom floor as he made his way from her side. Clearly, he had taken rather badly to what she had suggested, but to leave her quite alone in a house she was still rather unfamiliar with was rudeness itself! Her voice refused to work, her words sticking in her throat as she attempted to call after him. Her heart ran from concern to frustration and back again until Caroline was forced to stamp her foot in irritation. Why was she doing this to herself? One moment, she was looking into Lord Brandeis’s eyes and feeling nothing but sympathy for him, convinced that he was truly hurting underneath the façade he put on not only for her but for the rest of the world. The next moment she was quite sure that he was nothing but an arrogant, selfish gentleman with no thought for anyone but himself.

  The sound of his footsteps died away and Caroline turned back towards the window, letting out a long, slow breath. Lord Brandeis was turning into more of a conundrum than she had expected, more of a constant thought in the back of her mind that she did not particularly want to be there.

  “Ridiculous man!” she exclaimed, folding her arms across her chest as she frowned, aware of just how unsettled she felt. “And now I shall have to pretend that all is well over dinner.” Closing her eyes, Caroline tried to calm her frantic heart, letting out a breath that frosted the window pane in front of her. She was becoming much too involved with Lord Brandeis. His relationship with his father and brother was entirely his own, and not something that she needed to involve herself with. What did it matter to her if he was upset if he was hiding his pain? She was here for one reason and one reason only – to show Lord Fernley that his son was able to fix himself on one lady at a time, and to pretend that she was greatly enamored with Lord Brandeis. There was nothing more required of her other than to enjoy herself.

  So why could she not get Lord Brandeis from her mind?

  Chapter Eleven

  The next few days passed very slowly. Lord Brandeis did not say much to Caroline, and she found herself doing more listening than joining in with conversations that flowed around her. Miss Gosford was to make her way to her father’s house in two days’ time and, thereafter, they would all follow to the parish for the wedding of Lord Weston to his lady bride. It was not something that Caroline was particularly looking forward to, given that she was not at all who she was pretending to be and felt, more and more, that she did not fit in with the nobility in any way. Not that this was surprising, of course, given their background, but Lord Brandeis’s silence and icy looks only added to a growing sense of homesickness.

  Caroline was more than grateful for Peter’s presence, at least, even though they were not meant to be particularly well acquainted. He had spent time with her every morning in the library when the rest of the household was still asleep, and she had come to rely on being in his company for a time. It allowed her to talk openly about what she was feeling and the difficulties she was having with Lord Brandeis, which Peter acknowledged but confessed that he was equally helpless in assisting her with that particular matter.

  Helping herself to another piece of toast, Caroline buttered it carefully as Peter read the newspaper across the table. She realized that she was rather tense, wondering if Lord Brandeis would be in the same mood as he had been these last few days. She was growing rather tired of it, she had to admit, but was quite at a loss as to what to do. Of course, telling herself that she should not care, that she should not allow Lord Brandeis to be in her thoughts so much made very little difference, for he remained there regardless.

  “Lady Winter?”

  Dragging her attention away from her confusing thoughts, Caroline straightened as Lord Fernley entered the dining room, clearly still a little tired from the late night he had enjoyed.

  “You are always awake before the rest of us, I think,” he said, as he nodded at Peter. “And you also, Mr. Devonshire.”

  She smiled at him as he took his seat at the head of the table. “I am not inclined to stay in bed, my lord,” she said, truthfully. “I always feel as though there is so much to do, so much expected of me on any given day.”

  Lord Fernley chuckled as Peter returned his attention to the newspaper. “Is that so, Lady Winter? I confess that I am quite the opposite.”

  Just as you should, given your status in life, Caroline thought to herself, smiling serenely at the marquess before picking up her cup of tea.

  “I will admit to being very glad that you met my son,” the marquess continued, with a somewhat thoughtful look. “He does seem to be rather changed.”

  Swallowing her tea, Caroline felt her smile falter. She did not particularly wish to talk about Lord Brandeis and certainly felt the beginnings of shame creep over her at the thought of lying to Lord Fernley.

  “Yes, my lord, I have seen him become a great deal more respectful and considerate towards me of late,” she said honestly, recalling just how lewd he had been the first night they had met.

  Lord Fernley chuckled. “And I am certain that you would not accept any kind of nonsense from him, Lady Winter. You appear to be quite sure of yourself – which, in this case, I consider to be quite a welcome trait.”

  Uncertain as to whether or not this was Lord Fernley’s way of complimenting her, Caroline managed a small smile and picked up her tea again, choosing to keep silent.

  “I think you are very good for Brandeis, Lady Winter. Thank you for what you have done.”

  This was said gently and thoughtfully, and Caroline’s eyes darted over to Lord Fernley, only to see him looking away from her with something like concern written in his expression. Was he truly concerned for his son? Or was this nothing more than relief that Lord Brandeis was, finally, falling in line?

  “Thank you, my lord,” she murmured, quietly.

  “It is quite extraordinary!” the marquess exclaimed suddenly, his gaze now fixed on a point across the room. “Brandeis has not done as I had expected him to and become lost in a sea full of liquor, nor has he deliberately been late or entirely absent from dinner or the like. In fact, due to your presence here, Lady Winter, he has appeared to be quite eager to join the rest of the family no matter what it is we are doing. That is truly remarkable, and I should thank you for your aid in that.” Lord Fernley inclined his head and Caroline, feeling herself blush, nodded back at him before returning her attention to her tea.

  She felt awkward, hating that all there was between herself and Lord Brandeis was a lie, a pretense, and that here she was extending that lie to the marquess himself. There was something about Lord Fernley that she could not quite make out, could not quite understand. Was he truly concerned for his son? Or was it, as Lord Brandeis had said, nothing more than a frustration that, regardless of Lord Brandeis behavior, he would never live up to the standards Lord Fernley had for him?

  Perhaps, it was both of those things at once.

  Sighing inwardly, Caroline poured herself some more tea, praying silently that Peter would now join in the conversation so as not to leave her conversing with Lord Fernley alone, only for the door to open. Turning her head, her relief that another person had come to join them quickly evaporated as she saw none other than Lord Brandeis striding into the room, his eyes flashing.

  “Good morning, Lady Winter,” he murmured, before greeting his father and Peter. “I was wondering if you would like to join me for a ride this morning? It is not particularly cold and, given that the sun is attempting to show itself through the clouds, I thought that it might be a good opportunity to show you the rest of my father’s estate.”

  She swallowed and fixed a smile to her face so that Lord Fernley would not suspect just how nervous she truly was.

  “A ride, you say?” she asked, remembering that she had what she had been told was a ‘riding habit’ in her new wardrobe but having very little idea of how she was meant to wear such a thing whilst sitting side saddle instead of astride. She had hoped that the cold weather would mean that there would be very little opportunity for riding but, apparent
ly, Lord Brandeis was not to be so easily put off.

  “Yes,” he said, firmly. “Should you like to join me?”

  Knowing that she could not refuse without drawing the attention – and the surprise – of Lord Fernley, Caroline inclined her head. “Of course.” She gestured to the table. “Will you break your fast first?”

  He sat down and shot her a quick glance. “I shall do so whilst you change, Lady Winter. I know that you have a wonderful new riding habit that you have been longing to wear.”

  Heat rippled into her cheeks as she rose, her tea now cold and forgotten in her cup. “Of course. Where shall I meet you, Lord Brandeis?”

  Shrugging, his gaze fixed on hers for a moment. “The stables are only a short distance away. Might you meet me at the French doors in the ballroom? That is the quickest way towards the stables.”

  Nodding, she excused herself with as much grace as she could, only just catching Peter’s quick grin that he hid behind the newspaper. Her brother knew all too well that she was not particularly keen on riding sidesaddle and clearly had no sympathy for her whatsoever. Gritting her teeth, Caroline made her way to the door as she excused herself, walking out of the room and back up towards her bedchamber to change into the dreaded riding habit.

  “You are doing very well, Miss Devonshire, but if you wish, then you are welcome to sit astride, so long as your skirts cover what they should. The horse is gentle enough and I will hold your reins.”

  Heat rose in Caroline’s face as Lord Brandeis turned his own away from her, allowing her to adjust her seat. The horse nickered and moved forward a little uncomfortably, as she leaned on the saddle with both hands so as to maneuver one leg over to the other side. It was with relief that she felt herself seated properly, no longer afraid that she might slide off despite the strange saddle that she was in.