The Earl's Perfect Match

by Kimberly Nee

  “Lovely. You look so mysterious,” Rosamund said, her voice heavy with approval. “I think you should keep it on for supper. Lord Shelton will go mad with desire.” She turned to Eleanor. “Don’t you think?”

  “Absolutely. You next, Ros.”

  Elena held out the stick. “I can do your eyes, if you wish. I have to help my sister all the time. She is hopeless when it comes to straight lines and if this doesn’t go on straight, it looks silly.”

  Rosamund nodded. “If you would be so kind.”

  Elena rose, traded places with Rosamund, and bent over to carefully swipe kohl on her eyes. Eleanor was next and when she was finished, Elena smiled like a proud mother. The kohl really stood out against the pale English skin and both ladies’ eyes looked enormous and very blue.

  “You both look beautiful,” Elena said, returning the kohl to its case.

  Eleanor leaned closer to the mirror and smiled. “Ros, they will all take note of us this evening.”

  “I certainly hope so. I’d hate to think we made Elena do this all for naught.”

  A sense of unease settled over Elena. Somehow, she had the feeling she was being set up to fall on her face, but as she peered at herself once more, her vanity got the best of her. Did it matter that she’d never seen any of the pale ladies darken their eyes until just now? She loved the smoky look of her own eyes, how the kohl brought out the gold, made them shimmer as if they were jewels. People already stared. Why not at least know why they did so?

  “And you should wear your hair down. It’s so beautiful this way.” Eleanor fluffed several curls over Elena’s shoulders. “Isn’t that how you wear it at home?”

  “Sometimes, but I haven’t seen any of you—”

  “Don’t be silly,” Rosamund broke in, reaching up to pull several pins from her own hair. A thick blond lock sprang free to snake over her right shoulder. “I’m certainly game. Eleanor?”

  “No. I think I’ll leave the daring to you, Ros.”

  Rosamund didn’t wait for Elena to offer permission, but went to work combing out Elena’s hair until it fell about her shoulders like glossy ravens’ wings. She fluffed here, pinned there, and when she stepped away, Elena smiled. It’d been a long time since she’d seen the woman looking back at her. For the first time since arriving in England, she was comfortable in her own skin.

  “I think Shelton will fall out of his chair,” Rosamund proclaimed, setting the comb down with flourish. “Don’t you, Ellie?”

  “Absolutely. Now come, they’ve rung the dinner gong and I don’t want to be the last ones down.”

  Elena rose from her bench and drew her velvet wrap from the foot of the bed to drape about her bare shoulders. It was chillier in England, the air damper than on St. Phillippe, and she didn’t want to catch a cold.

  The three of them made their way below, and when Elena asked about Cordelia and Christina, Lady Rosamund replied, “They have probably already come down. By the by, where is your brother Conn?”

  Elena wondered the same thing. She hadn’t seen him since that morning. “I don’t know. Hopefully he’ll be at supper.”

  Halfway down the staircase, Rosamund stopped, grabbing Eleanor by the elbow. “Drat it all. I left my wrap on my bed. Ellie, come with me? It’s always so chilly in the dining room.”

  Eleanor nodded. “Of course. Elena, please go on and we’ll meet you there.”

  That feeling of being set up surged through her again, but she forced herself to smile. “Of course. I’d hate to see either of you catch a chill.”

  “You are so sweet,” Rosamund said before turning to head back up, Eleanor on her heels.

  Perhaps Eleanor thought she and Rosamund were out of earshot. Or perhaps she thought Elena had suddenly gone hard of hearing. Either way, her voice carried down the staircase as she said, “Perhaps we made a mistake, Ros. She looks almost like a lady this evening.”

  “Why, Eleanor, you sound jealous. Surely you don’t think she will fool anyone, do you?”

  Eleanor’s response was lost as they finally did move beyond earshot. However, the blood drained from Elena’s face, leaving her entire body icy cold and burning hot with humiliation at the same time.

  She stared down at the carpet, studied the way the gold accents shot through the midnight-blue field, as she struggled to collect herself, to calm her rising fury. It simply wouldn’t do to act on that fury. After all, she was a guest in the earl’s home and these women were his friends. No, it was best to simply try to forget what they’d said. At least for now, anyway.

  Elena stood there for several minutes. She had two options—go above and wash her face and be late for dinner, or plunge ahead and prove to both of them she was just as much a lady as they were, whether they wished to admit it or not.

  Besides, she really didn’t want to wash her face. It wasn’t often she wore the kohl and she did love how it made her eyes look—and a secret part of her wanted to look especially nice for Bennett. No matter how Eleanor or Rosamund saw her, Elena knew she put both of them to shame.

  Or so she’d keep reminding herself.

  Her decision made, she continued down to round the corner into the dining room, where she found the marquess immediately, seated by Lord Dunning at the far end of the table. She smiled, sweeping into the room as the gentlemen rose from their chairs and stared. But something in each pair of male eyes chipped away at her assuredness. Little by little, the terrible feeling that they weren’t staring at her in admiration, but rather horror, crept over her.

  Diego was there, but Galen, Claudia, and Gabby were not. Hopefully this was a good sign and Elena was determined to take it as such. It helped ease some of the tension in her shoulders.

  “Good evening, Miss Sebastiano.” Lord Dunning broke the thick, uncomfortable silence and smiled as the footman drew her chair. “Good evening, Lady Rosamund, Miss Fielding. I was wondering if perhaps you’d gotten yourselves lost.”

  Elena twisted to look over her shoulder and her stomach roiled when she saw Rosamund and Eleanor, their eyes void of any kohl now, standing in the doorway behind her. Those…those perras.

  Although she knew how those two truly felt about her, she wasn’t prepared for the rush of idiocy that swept through her just the same. They wanted her to feel like an oddity. Like a curiosity.

  They wanted to make certain she knew she was the outsider and didn’t belong.

  No matter. She would not let them know exactly how foolish she felt. Why give them the satisfaction? No, she would be as calm and cool as possible, would act as if she wore kohl all the time.

  “Of course not.” Lady Rosamund chuckled, lowering into her chair. “We were just chatting and lost track of time, didn’t we?”

  Eleanor sat and nodded. “That we did.”

  Lady Rosamund’s mother was mid-sip when her gaze alit on Elena. Then her eyes widened and she lowered her glass to breathe, “Oh, my…”

  Eleanor’s mother and Lady Montrose also stared, although neither said anything. It seemed as if every pair of eyes was steadily trained on her. At first, it didn’t bother her, how they stared. After all, she was used to it. They always stared at her. But she sat down opposite Conn, who didn’t look at all pleased by her appearance. His eyes narrowed and he muttered, “What are you doing?”

  “Why?” She flicked open the white napkin and set it over her lap. “It’s no different than home.”

  “It is different. Do you see—”

  Conn cut himself off with a cough, sitting back as the marquess said, “I think you look lovely, Miss Sebastiano. You know how to stand out in a crowd.”

  “Thank you, my lord.” A pleasant warmth stole into her cheeks as the footmen began pouring the wine.

  “I agree,” Lord Dunning said, although his expression suggested otherwise. He looked almost pained, as if it took great strength of will to hold in whatever was on his mind. With a sinking feeling in her belly, Elena was certain it had something to do with her appearance.

 
; But no one else commented, or, to her relief, laughed, as the first course was served. She sipped her wine, which was light and crisp and paired well with the soup. She still wasn’t exactly fond of cold soup, but this one was delicious. She loved cucumbers; they were one of the few English foods that she knew from home, and this soup was very like one Rosa, her father’s cook, made.

  Several times she peered up through her lowered lashes to find both the earl and the marquess staring at her, although in different ways. Rosamund had been correct about the marquess. He looked ready to devour her right there, which was unsettling.

  The look on the earl’s face, however, was downright uncomfortable.

  Halfway through supper, Matthews came into the dining room. “I beg your pardon, my lord, but Lord Huxley and Mr. Angsley have arrived.”

  For the first time since Elena had stepped into the dining room, she saw a genuine smile appear on the earl’s lips. “Wonderful,” he said, wiping his mouth as he rose from his chair. “I was beginning to wonder if they’d grace us with their presence before the hour grew much later.”

  Elena paused, her spoon halfway to her mouth, as Lord Dunning continued. “Although I thought the bride and groom would be joining us, it seems they’ve got to be somewhere else. Still, in keeping with the festivities tomorrow, I’ve arranged for a bit of dancing this evening. Several more guests have arrived, and since I’ve not yet formally introduced my friends from Huxley House, I’d like to do so now. Lord Huxley and his brother, Mr. Angsley.” Bennett went about the table, introducing each person.

  She and Conn exchanged confused looks, and when Elena mouthed, “Huxley House?” Conn simply shrugged. She eyed both men. They were fair haired and dark eyed, and looked supremely confident with their lot in life. Unfortunately, they had weak chins, thin lips, and close-set eyes, resulting in a discomforting weasel-like appearance that put Elena off. Perhaps it was their eyes or lips that marred their perfect appearance.

  “Please, remain seated,” the taller of the two said, with a rakish smile, peering around the table. “Dunning, it was awfully good of you to send the invite ’round. I thought I might have to go over to London and stir up some trouble there instead. Before the wedding, that is.”

  “Well, we can’t have that now, can we?” Lord Dunning gestured to the table. “Matthews, if you’d be so kind as to scare up two more chairs.”

  “Of course, my lord.”

  While they waited, the earl said, “I don’t believe you’ve met my guests, Captain Sebastiano and his sister, Miss Sebastiano? They are Cousin Claudia’s friends. She sent word earlier that she and her intended were going into the village for dinner this evening. I thought you’d be here long before now.”

  “Yes, well, I’m afraid Mother had a wild hair, so we found ourselves up at the loch again.” The taller one appeared to be the spokesman for the two, his rakish smile widening as his eyes alit on Elena. “And I am terribly sorry that we were in Scotland and not here. How lovely to meet you, Miss Sebastiano.”

  “Captain Sebastiano, Miss Sebastiano, this is Lord Huxley and his brother, Mr. Angsley.”

  She started to rise, but Lord Huxley stopped her. “Don’t be silly, my lady. Sit and be comfortable. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “And a pleasure to meet you, my lord.”

  “Please,” Huxley said, his dark eyes glinting in the candlelight, “I do hope you’ll feel comfortable enough to address me as Huxley. Or even Hux. I answer to almost anything.”

  “Unless I’m the one calling him,” Mr. Angsley replied drily, elbowing his brother out of the way. “A pleasure, Miss Sebastiano. I understand you and your brothers come to us all the way from the West Indies?”

  “We do,” Conn answered for her, glowering at both men as Elena sank into her seat. “And once we are through with our brother’s wedding trip, we plan to sail back from whence we came.”

  “Oh, I hope you’ll stick around long enough for the Ascot Race,” Lord Dunning broke in, looking from Conn to Elena. “I’ve entered Loki in it for the first time.”

  “We will see, as it all depends on the tides and the weather. I’d certainly hate to be delayed several weeks because of one race.” He said it in a jovial manner, but Elena knew her brother well enough to recognize the warning undertone.

  All Lord Dunning said was, “Of course. But I do hope you are able.”

  Matthews returned with two footmen, and the same number of chairs. The brothers—and someday, she would understand how brothers in English families could have different names—made themselves comfortable nestled on either side of her, much to her consternation, where they monopolized her by pelting her with question after question about the West Indies and what it was like to live there. This left Lord Dunning to glower right alongside Conn, while Elena managed to finish her meal in between all those pointless questions.

  After supper, Matthews returned. “The musicians are in the ballroom, my lord.”

  “Thank you, Matthews.”

  Elena turned her attention to Shelton. “Do you dance?”

  “I do. Not well, but I do dance. I hope you’re wearing new slippers, Miss Sebastiano, for I fully intend to keep you from sitting.”

  Conn cleared his throat. “Oh, come now, my lord. Surely you’ll allow an overly protective brother a dance or two with his sister.”

  Something akin to annoyance flickered across the marquess’s face, but he smiled. “Of course. I’m not a complete oaf, you know.”

  “I wondered.”

  “Conn!”

  To her relief, Shelton threw his head back and laughed. “Touché, Captain Sebastiano. Touché.”

  With that, Dunning rose and announced they’d be moving into the ballroom. As everyone filed out, Conn caught her arm and tucked it through his. “I’m not letting you out of my sight, Lena.”

  “Don’t be like that. I’ll be fine. It’s a crowded ballroom. What do you think’s going to happen?”

  He gave her a long look. “And what are you about, with the black around your eyes?”

  “I do it at home.”

  “Only on special occasions, and Papi glowers the entire time. Why on earth would you do it tonight?”

  “Lady Rosamund thought it would look pretty, and that—” She pressed her lips together, but it was too late.

  Conn quirked one brow, “Go on.”

  She shot him a look. “He’s a perfectly decent gentleman, Conn.”

  “And you’re supposed to be pairing him with Lady Rosamund, not yourself. Aren’t you?”

  “Lady Ros—” She shook her head, managing to hold her laughter. “No, not Lord Dunning! The marquess! He’s a widower, you know. With two young sons.”

  “Wait—” Conn dragged her to a halt, letting the rest of the crowd around the corner ahead of them. “She’s doing some matchmaking between you and Shelton, of all people?”

  “Well, you needn’t say it like he’s some sort of disease. He’s a perfectly nice man.”

  “A nice man? Are you joking, Lena? He would eat you up and spit you out so fast you wouldn’t have time to come out of your slippers. What the deuce are you thinking? Are you even interested in him?”

  She gasped at his boldness. “How dare you say that to me?”

  “I say it because I can. You’re my sister, and I’ve heard far worse come out of both you and Serena.” He wasn’t at all abashed at his language, but looked more furious by the second. “From what I’ve heard of the marquess, marriage isn’t exactly what he’s after these days. He has no need for it. You said yourself he has two sons. What does he need a wife for? And you didn’t answer me, you know. Are you interested in him?”

  “I’m not about to dignify that with an answer.”

  She made to walk ahead of him, but Conn grabbed her elbow before she could. “Lena, wait. I’m merely concerned, that’s all.”

  “Well, you needn’t be. You don’t know anything about him.”

  “My point exactly.” He shot her a poi
nted look. “Do you? As I said, why would he need a wife now?”

  “Because maybe he’s lonely?”

  “And company can be bought for only a trinket and smile, Lena. Can you?”

  She gasped again, and this time Conn winced. He’d crossed the line and knew it, and he didn’t try to duck when she slapped him soundly across the face. “How could you say something so cruel?” She jerked away from him. “Or is that all you think I might be good for?”

  “Lena, I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “The devil you didn’t. Just because you would make a terrible husband doesn’t mean all men would, and you know nothing about him anyway, so…” She struggled to come up with the perfect insult, but the best she could muster was, “Just leave me alone!”

  “Elena—”

  She didn’t wait for him to finish, but whipped about and hurried to catch up with the others. She didn’t know if Conn would follow her, nor did she care. At that moment, she wished he’d stayed home on St. Phillippe.

  Chapter Twelve

  Bennett couldn’t stop staring at Elena. No matter how he tried, he just couldn’t help himself. Of all the women in residence, the one he could easily see himself with was Elena Sebastiano. She made his dark thoughts brighter, made the dreary rooms of Dunning Court sunnier. He looked forward to seeing her, to sitting and just chatting with her. Time passed so quickly when he was with her and he found that at the end of the day, she was still on his mind when his head hit the pillow.

  She seemed to like him just as much, however, and that was the problem. She cared for him already. Should she come to love him…

  No. He couldn’t do that to her. Wouldn’t do that to her. Better that she be angry with him and hold his idiocy against him for the rest of her days. Let her think of him as arrogant and be happy when she could leave England. It didn’t make him at all happy, but that was immaterial. Her well-being came first. It had to, no matter how miserable it made him in the process.

  She reminded him of the butterflies that gathered in the butterfly gardens at the south end of the courtyard—vibrant splashes of blue and orange and red, outlined dramatically with black. He could spend hours in that garden, just watching the butterflies—watching all of nature. It was all so beautiful in its own way.