An Earl Like You

by Caroline Linden

  Eliza’s eyes narrowed. “So Mr. Grenville persuaded you to buy into one of his cork-brained schemes, and then Lord Livingston offered you an easy way to make a profit.”

  Papa looked exasperated. “That’s the way business works, Lilibeth.”

  She frowned. She could see why Livingston might be unhappy, but it didn’t sound as though her father had cheated him. Was the viscount simply being vindictive? “What happened to the mine?”

  He drummed his fingers on the arm of the sofa for a moment. “I don’t know why you’re troubling your head about this. Investments go bad from time to time. It’s not unlike gambling, you know, and sometimes you lose. Anyone who doesn’t understand that should put his money in the four percents and leave it there. And before you accuse me of misleading Lord Livingston,” he added, wagging one finger at her, “I told him I thought it was a dodgy deal. Grenville thought he’d discovered a new way of extracting ore from old mines, but it only pulled up small amounts. Livingston brushed my warning aside. He wanted to take the chance that it would pay off magnificently, and I let him. That’s all.”

  Eliza hesitated. “He was angry enough about it to end his son’s engagement . . .”

  Papa raised his eyebrows. “And the young man agreed to that? Not a very devoted suitor.”

  “No,” she murmured.

  “I understand things are different with nobility—sons kept under their fathers’ thumbs and all that—but calling off an advantageous marriage for spite is idiocy,” Papa went on.

  Eliza cleared her throat. “He offered to marry her after all for a larger settlement.”

  Papa snorted in disgust. “Poor negotiation. You fix the price before you extend the offer.”

  “But now poor Edith’s heart is broken,” Eliza said softly. “She loves him.”

  “Then I am very sorry for her,” he replied more kindly. “But a man should keep his word. If he’s the sort who does not, she’s better off without him.”

  Eliza agreed, but she couldn’t see why Lord Livingston felt so cheated by her father that he would spoil his son’s marriage to an eligible young lady. “It seems irrational . . .”

  “Which is why I haven’t wasted much thought on Lord Livingston, and refuse to do so now.” Papa held out his cup, and Eliza obligingly poured him more coffee. “When shall I have a grandchild to bounce on my knee?”

  Eliza blushed bright red. “Papa!”

  He winked. “Patience isn’t my strength.” He paused, growing more serious. “Are you happy, Lilibeth? Is Hastings a good husband?”

  “Yes.” Her mouth curved. “Very happy. If only this hadn’t happened to Lady Edith . . . She—she’s blamed me for her broken engagement.”

  Pique flashed across his face. “That seems very undeserved. Are Lady Henrietta and her mother kind and welcoming?”

  “Yes,” she said slowly. “At least, I think they’re warming to me.”

  “But not initially?” His expression was grim.

  “I suspect Lady Hastings had someone else in mind for Hugh to marry,” she confessed. “But she’s been gracious, and I believe she’s taking to me. We’re redecorating the drawing room together. And Henrietta . . . She followed her sister’s lead initially, but she’s a lovely girl. She’s becoming quite fond of Willy.”

  “And Hastings?” her father pressed again. “Is he good to you?”

  “Yes, Papa.” She gave him a warning look. “Don’t go browbeating him.”

  “Why would I do that?” Papa acted surprised. “What does he need browbeating for?”

  “Nothing.” Eliza meant to solve any lingering problems in her marriage herself. “It’s not your place.”

  He regarded her with fond concern. “It’s my place to see that you’re happy. If Hastings doesn’t do right by you—”

  “He has,” she said firmly. Telling Papa her worries would do no good, and only put him on edge. “Don’t you dare do anything, Papa.”

  “You act as if I’m not trustworthy.” He put on a wounded expression she knew was all art.

  “I’m acting as if I know you,” she said firmly, but with a laugh. “I know you like to interfere, but your help is not wanted in this case.”

  “If you need help . . .” he began.

  “No!” She set down her teacup with a clink. “I do not need help. If I do, I will ask for it.”

  A smile broke out on his face. “That’s my girl. Well, as long as Hastings is making you happy, I shall keep to myself.”

  Hugh almost held his breath the first evening they went out, but he needn’t have worried.

  Not only did Eliza look her best, in a deep peacock-green dress that made her eyes glow, she seemed to have tapped some vein of poise and composure inside herself. He’d seen her shy and uncertain before, and feared she might retreat into it in the face of Livingston’s spite. Instead she walked into the Gorensons’ musicale with her head high, diamonds sparkling at her throat and ears, as if she were a princess royal.

  It helped, no doubt, that her friend was there. Lady Georgiana linked her arm through Eliza’s and led her around the room, introducing her to every prominent lady in attendance. Hugh let them go, but kept his eyes on her.

  “How remarkable they would be such friends,” remarked his mother beside him.

  Hugh raised his brows. “Why?”

  “Why—why, they’re so . . .” She paused thoughtfully. “They are quite different. Lady Georgiana is so vivacious. Eliza is far quieter. I worried she was terribly shy when you invited her to tea.”

  Except she wasn’t. Hugh knew she didn’t hesitate to speak her mind when she felt strongly about something. She wasn’t shy in bed, either. Perhaps she wasn’t shy at all, but merely cautious in new situations. “Do you wish I’d married someone like Lady Georgiana?” he asked, and was surprised to feel something inside himself recoil at the thought. Lady Georgiana was beautiful and vivacious, as his mother said—much like Catherine Thayne and Fanny Martin, either of whom his mother would have been delighted to see as his bride. Once upon a time he’d thought he would marry someone like that, and only now did it strike him how exhausting that might have been.

  His mother took her time replying. Finally he glanced at her, wondering if she were struggling with how to admit that, yes, she did wish that, but instead her face was surprised.

  “Once I did,” she said. “But now . . . Eliza was a wonderful choice. She’s not at all what I expected your wife would be, but all for the better.”

  Now he was the one surprised. “Really.”

  She gave him a glance of reproach at his tone. “I was wrong earlier, when I tried to persuade you against courting her. And I was wrong not to welcome her more warmly.” She smiled ruefully. “You chose better for yourself than I would have done, and I am so proud of you for it.”

  Hugh looked at his wife again. She was listening to Lady Clapham with a smile on her face. Lady Georgiana broke in with something that made all three laugh. Eliza’s face was luminous with happiness. The ton might never call her beautiful, but Hugh realized that he rather thought she was. It was the way she smiled. The way her bosom rose and fell when she laughed. The way her eyes lit with an extra glow when she glanced up and caught him watching her, and their gazes connected for a small eternity. The rest of the room seemed to fade away around him, and Hugh found himself smiling at his own wife like a love-struck ninny. He bowed slightly at her, still smiling; she blushed, but then she winked at him, a roguish wink that made him want to sweep her into a private room where he could kiss her senseless and tease her about tempting him to do wicked things to her at a society musicale.

  He wanted to laugh.

  Yes, he had done remarkably well. Even if she hadn’t been his choice at all in the beginning, there was no other woman in the world he wanted now. And on that thought, he headed across the room toward her.

  Eliza thought she must be tipsy, or daydreaming, or perhaps had suffered a whack on the head and was now enjoying a marvelous delusion
.

  The same society matrons who had never deigned to look in her direction during her futile Season were smiling right at her tonight as Georgiana towed her around the room. Georgiana, of course, knew and was known by everyone, and was clearly held in high regard by them all. Eliza had expected no less, but it was still dazzling to see the effects of Georgiana’s determined charm—and, perhaps, her own new title—at close range.

  Lady Clapham complimented her gown. Lady Reynolds invited her to tea. Someone else—Eliza lost track of who—admired her jewels. She could hardly keep straight all the names and faces of her new acquaintances.

  After several minutes, Lady Sidlow summoned Georgiana away, leaving Eliza with Lady Gorenson. Their hostess was very cordial, presenting her to several more people, but Eliza was relieved to spot Hugh making his way through the crowd toward her, albeit slowly as he was stopped by every other person he passed. Society was exhausting, it turned out.

  “Here is someone you should know,” said Lady Gorenson gaily, breaking into her thoughts. “If you are not already acquainted with Mr. Benwick. I understand you may soon be very closely acquainted . . . ?” She gave Eliza a teasing smile.

  Eliza turned around to see Reginald Benwick, staring at her with haughty determination in his face. He drew breath, obviously readying a cutting response. Eliza didn’t give him the chance. “I believe you are mistaken, Lady Gorenson,” she said, quietly but clearly. “I have no wish to make this gentleman’s acquaintance.” She turned and walked away, her head high.

  Lady Gorenson scurried after her. “My goodness, Lady Hastings, I am astonished—I’ve heard rumors he is engaged to Lady Edith!”

  Eliza stopped and put her hand on her hostess’s arm. “I hope I may confide in you, ma’am.” Lady Gorenson blinked, then nodded eagerly. Eliza glanced around, but they were in a relatively quiet corner, sheltered behind a large group of young ladies talking and laughing. “He did call upon Lady Edith, but he turned out to be very unsuitable, and Hastings has turned him aside.”

  The other woman’s eyes looked ready to fall from her head. “No,” she breathed. “But he’s quite eligible . . .”

  Eliza made a subtle noise of disagreement. Lady Gorenson sucked in her breath. “No!”

  Lowering her voice even further, Eliza leaned close. “I understand his father’s financial situation isn’t entirely stable. He pursued Lady Edith only in hopes of gaining her dowry, it seems.”

  “She told people she was in love with him!” burst out Lady Gorenson in a whisper.

  Eliza bit her lip. “He deceived her into thinking he loved her. And who could not? Edith is so lovely and so loyal. For that cruelty I can never forgive him, and I have no wish to make his acquaintance. My only solace is that Hastings realized it before anything had been settled, and now he’s forbidden Mr. Benwick the house. But you must not tell anyone that,” she added hastily, as if she hadn’t meant to say it. “I don’t want to cause a scene with Mr. Benwick or his family—as long as he can’t hurt Edith any more than he has.”

  “Of course.” Lady Gorenson goggled at her. “I’d no idea.”

  “You must understand why we don’t speak of it,” Eliza murmured in reply. “I’d rather no one know, for Edith’s sake.”

  “Of course,” said her hostess again. “I completely understand!”

  Eliza smiled in gratitude and pressed her arm, then turned to go meet Hugh. Her knees were shaking, and she thought she’d better warn him about what she’d done. But she hadn’t gone more then two steps before she came face-to-face with Edith, ashen-faced and wide-eyed.

  She stopped cold, her heart sinking. Oh no. Edith had been in the group of girls behind her the whole time.

  “You told Lady Gorenson that Mr. Benwick was practically a fortune hunter,” said Edith, her voice barely audible.

  She bit her lip and wondered what was the right thing to say. She always seemed to choose wrongly, when it came to Edith. “I couldn’t bear to be politely introduced to him after what he did.”

  “Why?” Edith sounded genuinely bewildered.

  Eliza looked at her, so young, so beautiful, so headstrong. “What he did is appalling,” she said evenly.

  “But . . . But I—” Edith gave a tiny shake of her head, her brows knit. “Why—?”

  She lightly touched Edith’s arm. “It does not matter what justification he gave. The way he treated you is unpardonable. I would think so no matter who the poor girl had been, and I cannot admire Mr. Benwick for being so rude and cruel.”

  Edith’s mouth trembled. “No,” she agreed. She hesitated, then added, very softly, “Thank you.”

  Without another word, Edith slipped back to the cluster of young ladies she’d been with before. Judging by the whispered conversation they struck up, and the furtive glances several girls gave Eliza, she guessed they were talking about her set-down of Mr. Benwick.

  “Is something the matter?” murmured Hugh, his fingers grazing her waist in a casually affectionate touch that made her heart leap.

  Eliza glanced at him. “No.” She cleared her throat. “I may have suggested to Lady Gorenson that Mr. Benwick is an unprincipled fortune hunter and you’ve forbidden him the house.”

  “What?” He looked startled.

  “And Edith overheard.” Eliza dared a quick look at her sister-in-law. As she did so, Edith glanced up and met her eyes. To Eliza’s surprise and cautious delight, Edith gave her a small nod before turning back to her friends. In spite of herself, she smiled—only to notice Hugh staring at her. She sobered. “I hope I didn’t—”

  “No,” he said quietly. “I think you did exactly right. As of now, Mr. Benwick is barred from my house, so it’s not even a lie.”

  She beamed at him gratefully. She hadn’t truly expected that her actions would displease him, but it was enormously reassuring to hear him say it.

  “I’d no idea Benwick would be here tonight.” He raised his head and looked across the room. “I should inform my mother and see if she wishes to leave.”

  “Don’t you think,” began Eliza hesitantly, “that we ought to stay?”

  “Stay!” He frowned. “And give him the chance to be cruel to Edith in person?”

  “No, to give Edith the chance to show everyone that she’s not pining for him.” She looked at Edith again. There was a smile on her face now, and she even wrinkled her nose and laughed at something her friend said.

  Hugh continued to scowl. “I don’t like it.”

  Eliza also wouldn’t mind going home. The drawing room was crowded and hot, for all its elegance, and Georgiana, her only friend here, was off somewhere else. But something Georgiana had said, about holding up her head to prevent the gossips from being merciless, was very much in her mind tonight. She’d been doing that—not backing down, pretending she had the courage of an Amazon queen and the nerve of a circus performer—and it appeared to have worked. It seemed foolish to leave now and let that effort go unfulfilled. “If Edith walks out the instant Mr. Benwick appears, what will people think?” She could see him, too, standing at the side of the room sipping wine with a sulky expression. “I think it far better that he bear any shame or disapproval than Edith.”

  “Lady Hastings.” Hugh tipped up her chin until she looked at him. “You are a remarkably insightful woman.”

  She blushed. “Oh, no . . .” She’d merely learned the hard way what happened when one was quiet and retiring and did nothing to counter vile rumors.

  “You are,” he insisted, his eyes dark and intent on her. “And if there weren’t a hundred people watching, I might kiss you for it.”

  Her heart skipped, jumped, and soared. Whatever she’d had to endure—from Edith’s animosity to the loss of Willy’s company to being required to attend society events like this one—it was all worth it. Because of Hugh’s love. He’d seen past her shy, plain person, right into the depths of her heart, and he loved her as she was. Eliza smiled at him, certain she looked like a lovesick idiot and not caring in
the slightest. “Perhaps I was hasty, about wanting to stay for the rest of the musicale . . .”

  He only laughed, low and sensual, as he drew her to his side and tucked her arm around his. “I shall make up for lost time tonight, Lady Hastings. You may depend on it.”

  Chapter 24

  The next week unfolded so splendidly that Hugh, without meaning to, fell prey to the seductive but treacherous belief that he would never have to tell Eliza the truth.

  Her set-down of Benwick wasn’t without repercussion. The day after the Gorenson musicale, the first whispers reached his ears. Benwick had stormed out of the musicale in a bad temper, and Hugh wasn’t surprised to hear reports that Livingston was telling everyone at his club that Hugh, having only married for money, had got what he deserved with a rude, arrogant upstart for a wife.

  He was surprised at the source of rebuttal. His mother was livid when she heard, and embarked at once on a tour of drawing rooms around London, assuring everyone that Eliza was the most delightful girl, that Hugh had seen her worth, and that Benwick was acting out of spite after his courtship of Edith was rejected. Edith had told her what Eliza said, and it sealed the dowager’s loyalty to her daughter-in-law.

  But the most surprising thing, the thing that seemed to wipe away all the trouble and upheaval his marriage had caused initially, was Edith’s confession. She stopped him on his way out the door one day and asked for a word. He followed her into the morning room, hoping it wasn’t something else about the dog. He’d hardly seen Willy, and he knew Eliza missed having her pet around.

  “I want to apologize,” said Edith when he had closed the door. She twisted her hands together. “For all the things I said about Eliza.”

  “Ah.” Hugh resisted the urge to say anything else.

  Edith bit her lip. “I thought it was important to be loyal to Reg—to Mr. Benwick. I believed his claims that her father was quite evil.” She looked at the floor. “And I felt rather superior for thinking so.”