The Earl of Heartbreak

by Bethany M. Sefchick

  "Excellent idea," Sarah replied as she easily kept pace with him. "I have not been there in an age since it is no longer used, but perhaps I can think of something clever to do with it for the ball." She sighed. "Not that I am having much success in the planning of the event, and Mama's letters have gone missing so I have no idea what she intended for me to include in the preparations. They were on the escritoire just the other day but now I cannot find them."

  Rayne raised an eyebrow as he guided Sarah around a rather large hole that was developing in the lane, one that would need to be filled in before the ball. He made a mental note to speak to Horace, the estate's groundskeeper about the issue. "Perhaps Wilson or Metford moved them?" He wasn't about to admit to taking them after all.

  Lying in bed with her last night, Rayne had decided that someone needed to do something just for Sarah. He had already decided to take the planning of the ball from her hands since she couldn't seem to muster up much enthusiasm for the task. However, that was something for Frost and Lavinia. Not Sarah. So while he still did not know what he was going to do for Sarah, Rayne was certain the idea would come to him. He was known as a rather inventive lover, often relying upon his extensive knowledge of ancient cultures to dazzle the women he bedded. Why could he not do the same for Sarah? Only...more. Because she deserved all of that pleasure and more. And because after he was gone, no one else would ever likely think to give her something so precious.

  Even if she chose a different path for her life and eventually wed someone like Lansdale, the man in question would never care for Sarah the way Rayne did. Her husband - assuming that it was the marquess, of course - would keep her safe and protected. He would likely even care for her, especially since he seemed to already. But Lansdale would never feel for Sarah the way Rayne did.

  Which was...how, exactly? Even now, Rayne could not say how he felt about Sarah. There was no name he could think of to correctly describe what he felt in her presence. It wasn't love. For Rayne didn't really believe in love. He believed in passion and fire and tender feelings. But not love. Still, it was more than like and certainly more than the muddling feelings he had eventually developed towards his mistresses and bed partners in the past. He knew that much anyway.

  "I am certain I will find Mama's letters eventually. I must have simply misplaced them." Sarah raised her face to the sun, thankful that she had not worn a bonnet today. If she had been with anyone else, she would have, of course. It was the proper thing to do, after all. However, she did not think Rayne, of all people, would care whether she wore one or not so she hadn't bothered.

  "I am certain that is it," he said simply, hoping she would allow the matter to drop. He also did his best to change the subject. "Now. About the watchman's cottage. Did you know that it was built upon the ruins of an ancient Roman structure? If you look closely at the stonework, it is rather obvious."

  Laughing, Sarah looked at him with those sparkling green eyes of hers and he felt something loosen in his chest. She was happy. He had given that joy to her, along with the smile on her face and the laughter in her throat. It felt...good. Probably more than it should have.

  "I think you have mentioned that very fact a time or two, my lord," she teased back. "But please. By all means. Continue on if you wish."

  So for the next quarter hour, Rayne regaled Sarah with tales of the ancient Romans and how they had overrun most all of England and beyond. He knew she had heard his stories before, but she still seemed to hang on his every word. Now that he knew the real reason for her interest, it made a great deal more sense, for he had always secretly doubted that anyone, save him, could be so utterly fascinated by Roman road structure.

  By the time they reached the watchman's cottage, Sarah was smiling broadly and laughing more than Rayne had seen her do in years. He had to admit that it fed his ego just a bit to know that he was the reason for her happiness. After pointing out the ancient stone foundation, they went inside and found the cottage very much unchanged from their youth.

  The large, almost oversized hearth still dominated the center of the room, and the comfortable chairs and settee were not covered and still facing the fire, indicating that the cottage had been last used in the colder months. While the decorative touches like clocks and knick-knacks were gone, the highly polished and ornately carved wooden tables remained, remnants of a different era. The small kitchen was clean, though no pottery or other dishes remained behind and upstairs, the bedrooms were all neatly made up and polished as if guests were expected at any moment.

  "I was unaware that anyone still came here," Sarah said as she ran a finger across the top of a washstand, expecting to find dust but came away with nothing except a still snowy white glove. "However someone is obviously caring for this place."

  "No idea who," Rayne said with a frown, though he intended to find out, peeking into yet another perfectly made up bedchamber. This place would be an excellent love nest for he and Sarah - if he somehow managed to stay on here at Hallowby after Frost returned. "Though it's likely Mrs. Dowdy knows. She seems to know everything about this place, actually."

  Sitting down on the bed with a soft thump, Sarah patted the space beside her, feeling bolder now for some reason. "She grew up here. Her mother was the housekeeper and cook here at Hallowby before her. I would wager she knows just as much about the estate as we do. Perhaps more."

  Settling in beside her, Rayne nodded. "Well, whoever is keeping up this place is doing a splendid job. There are rooms at Fieldown that are not nearly this clean." He paused and then frowned. "Though at the moment, I suspect every inch of the place is utterly clean, for it is stuffed to the rafters with marriage-minded females."

  "This house party of your mother's. It bothers you, doesn't it?" This was not the first time he had spoken of the event so derisively, yet Sarah knew that Rayne adored his mother and usually approved of everything she did. Even when her actions bordered on the scandalous and outrageous.

  "It does. It always has." Absently, Rayne picked at the lace coverlet. "I understand why she hosts this party, certainly. She was always a bit on the outrageous side, as you know, and after my father passed, she became even more so. She was lonely and these all-female house parties were a way for her to feel connected to Society so that it would not leave her behind or forget about her."

  "And later?" Sarah prodded, for she could tell he was not being completely truthful.

  He leaned forward and put his hands on his knees. "And later, she was so eager to see me wed, to make certain that the Raynecourt line did not die with me, that she began inviting younger and younger women. At first it was just a few along with their mothers, but now they number over sixty, if not over one hundred! All in the hopes of marrying me off to some chit that I cannot abide and who would be unlikely to care much for me, either." Rayne turned to Sarah. "Did you know that several years ago, she even attempted to wed me to Miss Amelia St. Vincent during her annual Holly Ball?"

  "You mean Lady Houghton, the sister of the infamous Devil Duke?" Sarah was shocked. She knew that the aging countess was outrageous at times, but not that outrageous certainly. "But Lady Houghton is several years your senior!"

  Rayne nodded sagely. "Indeed she is. She is also a wonderful lady, but she was not for me. Still, my mother was desperate. Not to mention rather pushy regarding the issue."

  Suddenly Rayne's actions in Society made a great deal more sense to Sarah. "That is why you go through women so quickly. Why you can never show attention to any one in particular. Why you take mistresses and bed courtesans. You are afraid your mother will see you showing favoritism to a proper young lady and demand that you wed her immediately."

  "And you, Sarah, are a lady who should not know what I do in that regard. Particularly with mistresses and courtesans." He gave her a sour look.

  Sarah huffed. "Then perhaps your mistresses and courtesans should not be accosting me in stores simply because we are long-time friends."

  "Touché, my lady." Rayne gave Sar
ah a mock salute. "The point to you on this one."

  Instead of gloating the way she would have only days before, Sarah reached out and took Rayne's hand, twining her fingers with his and wishing again that gloves were not keeping his flesh from hers. It was a bold move, certainly, but then he had seen her naked last night. They were quickly becoming about as intimate as was possible between a man and a woman.

  "Why are you telling me this, Rayne?" She looked at him and realized that his gaze was distant, as if he was someplace else in his mind.

  "Because you have revealed your secrets to me, Sarah." He slanted a gaze in her direction. "For you see, that is my secret."

  She was confused. "That you are afraid of committing to one woman? That is hardly a secret, Brook, especially given your nickname."

  Rayne shook his head. "That I run from love and commitment because I fear them above all other things." He shrugged. "Look at what love and commitment did to my mother. When my father passed, his death nearly destroyed her. When she eventually recovered, she so longed to feel that love again that it all but consumed her to the point where she focused all of her energies on me. She wanted me to find that same love she enjoyed with my father, thinking it would most certainly be the utter bliss she shared with my father. I understand why she wished that for me, but she pushed too hard, too fast. I was but fifteen when she was already trying to match me with women."

  "And you rebelled." That part was not difficult to figure out.

  "Rather spectacularly, wouldn't you agree?" He cocked his head to the side. "The more she pushed, the more I acted out until being a rake and a rogue and a libertine were the only roles I knew how to play." He leaned back on his hands. It was freeing to speak about this, he was discovering. "Eventually, though, I knew I had to get away or risk going mad. Or yelling at my mother, which is something I would never do. I would never want to hurt her that way."

  Sarah nodded in understanding as she leaned back as well, adopting a similar posture to his. "So you ran to the Continent. Even though in some cases, like your trips to the Far East, you placed yourself in grave danger."

  "I was always a scholar. Always." Rayne wasn't ashamed to admit that he was intelligent or that he enjoyed learning. It was simply a part of who he was at his core. "So when I was offered a trip to the Orient to look for ancient sites along the Silk Road, I practically leapt at the opportunity. I knew the trip would be dangerous, yes, but it was a danger I knew well. One I could quantify. In London? With marriage minded young ladies waiting around every door to pounce and trap me into marriage? Those were pitfalls I could not anticipate and were therefore, in my mind anyway, much more dangerous."

  This next part pained Sarah to ask, but she knew that she had to do so - for her own peace of mind if nothing else. "And the women? When you retuned?"

  For a moment Rayne was silent and Sarah thought he would refuse to answer her. "They were distractions," he finally said softly. "Pretty bits of fluff and lace to keep my mother occupied and my body distracted. But while I was away, I learned what it meant to be a man. To service my needs like those I ventured out with." He paused. "Perhaps I shouldn't tell you the rest. You are a lady after all."

  "When have you ever thought of me as a lady?" Sarah sniffed indignantly.

  "All of the time. Always." Rayne was quick to correct her on that point. "It is why I didn't treat you as I did those other young ladies who wished to trap me. I never avoided you the way I did them. It is why I still don't. You are my friend, and you are an innocent."

  Unconsciously, Sarah put a hand to her back and Rayne's eyes were drawn to the spot where he now knew her scars lay. "In some ways yes, that is true. But the innocence of my mind and spirit was going long ago."

  He considered that for a moment, watching the light and shadow play across her green gaze. She was not flinching, not wavering for even a second. "Very well. I shall tell you. But it will not be pretty."

  "Neither is my back." Rayne knew Sarah had a point.

  "Very well." Once more, he covered her hand with his, needing the security of the physical contact and warmth she offered him. "The whores and courtesans and mistresses? They were simply ways to feed those physical needs. Because the truth is, I enjoy those needs and I enjoy satisfying them. And I could not have you, so I had to seek release elsewhere. I didn't wish to, certainly, but that was the way it had to be. For the most part, those sorts of ladies can either offer me the pleasure I seek or be taught to offer it. Sometimes, they even find their own pleasure in what we do. However, the biggest part is that their hearts are not involved. It is the pleasure without the love. The passion without the pain and tears that often come with such endeavors. And yes, they, too, were distractions but in a very different way."

  Sarah wanted to say that she thought those women were distractions from what was missing in his life - namely love. But she did not. Because for as many scars as she had, Rayne had his own as well - only on the inside and not the outside.

  Rayne enjoyed women, yes. She couldn't fault him for that because her own brother had been no different before he met Lavinia. However, Sarah also believed that because his mother had pushed him so hard and so long to find love, that he had closed himself off from the very idea of it completely. He wouldn't even entertain the notion of love and the whores he bedded were simply distractions to make him forget how empty his own life was.

  After all, the man was thirty years of age and he was hiding out here at Hallowby Grange, pretending to be her betrothed simply because he was too afraid to go home and face the women his mother wanted him to meet. While she believed that Lady Raynecourt was also wrong to push her son so hard, Sarah also believed that it was past time that Rayne settled down. If he ever managed to wed some young chit, then he could reside at Fieldown in peace as the earl, and his mother would be elsewhere and not filling the country seat's halls with eligible young ladies.

  Except that if that was the case, then he would not be here with her. No matter how much he desired her, for in his mind, she was still forbidden to him. So perhaps this was best for everyone after all. Especially her.

  In the end, Sarah did not say any of that however. Instead she simply shrugged. "Then I suppose it is difficult when one of those supposedly uncomplicated affairs begins to develop feelings for you."

  "You mean Marietta Crestwood." Rayne had wondered when Sarah would get around to bringing her up. The woman was, after all, the one big issue that still hung between them like a dagger ready to slice apart the friendship they were slowly repairing.

  Sarah nodded. "I do."

  "In her case, I simply choose poorly." Rayne could admit that now. "She is beautiful and skilled, though not as skilled as I had heard, unfortunately." He glanced at Sarah to see if she was shocked by his words, but she did not appear to be, so he continued. "She was precisely what I thought I wanted in an uncomplicated mistress. My mistake was in not believing the rumors that were beginning to swirl around her. Those that implied that she was tiring of seeking out new protectors every few months and instead wanted to join the beau monde, even though she could never truly be a part of us."

  Rayne sat up then and pulled Sarah with him. "I am truly sorry that she came after you as she did. It was completely my fault."

  "How so?"

  "Marietta came to one of the balls that we attended together this spring. I am not certain how she gained entrance. Only that she did." Rayne clutched Sarah's hand harder. "She saw us dancing. Later, she told me how jealous she was, how she wanted that to be her I was twirling across the dance floor. I told her it could never be, that I had no intentions of wedding and if I ever did, it would be to a lady and not a mistress. That was poorly done of me, I know, but she made me angry with her demands. She called you all sorts of horrible names and I...reacted badly."

  In the past, Sarah might have railed at Rayne for his actions, but now she understood them. In fact, after this afternoon, she felt that she understood him far better now than she ever had be
fore. He had offered her a glimpse of his soul. It was enlightening, to say the least. It was also extremely heartbreaking as well, not so unlike his nickname.

  "Then she is the fool," Sarah said simply, knowing she had to choose her words carefully. "For she demanded more from you than you were willing to give. More than you could give, I suspect. That she accosted me at Madame LaVallier's is a sign of her own weakness. Not yours or anyone else's."

  Rayne shook his head, a bemused expression on his lips. "Are you certain that you are not the scholarly one among us. Your observations are extremely insightful."

  "I simply know people." Well, Sarah knew Rayne at least. "I also know women like Marietta Crestwood who grasp and cling to things when they should know well enough to let them go." In that moment, Sarah could have been speaking of herself. That would be her, in time. But not quite yet. "You are not at fault, Rayne, for you offer no women promises you do not intend to keep. Not even me and I have been so bold as to ask you to seduce me.

  "Have I mentioned lately how very, very much I plan to enjoy seducing you?" Rayne asked, his eyes now twinkling again.

  "Not as of late," Sarah teased, not resisting in the least when he rolled over and began to ease her beneath his large, hard body.

  "Then let me make it perfectly clear. For I do. Very, very much."

  This time when Rayne kissed her, Sarah allowed herself to be fully swept away by the sweetness of his tongue as it sought hers and the firmness of his lips. The walls between them were coming down. He was seducing not just her body, but her heart and mind and well, even if he did not know it. And she was not about to tell him. Instead, she was more than willing to simply lie back and enjoy the journey.

  Chapter Twelve

  Town Tattler

  I know, dear readers, I know. I swore that I would not put pen to paper again until the Little Season, and even then, only if I felt up to the task. However much has transpired in recent days that I fear cannot be left until fall. For it is said that there is at least one wedding in the offing, and possibly more! I have it on excellent authority that the rumored nuptials between Lord Hathaway and the lovely Miss Northrup will take place sooner rather than later. The nasty business that took place at Fairhaven is long behind them I am told and they are well on their way to matrimonial bliss.