Undone by the Earl

by Elizabeth Rue

  He bent his head towards her. She closed her eyes, trembling as she lifted her mouth to meet his.

  7

  For a moment, their mouths remained separated by a whisper of air, the sweet promise of his kiss and the warmth of his body a breath away. Then he pressed his mouth softly against hers, at first merely brushing her lips with his, then drawing her closer for a deeper but still gentle kiss.

  Anna couldn’t move. She didn’t breathe. She accepted the kiss, too shocked to kiss him back, amazed by the velvety warmth of his lips and the heat of his palms on her cheeks.

  “Miss Colbrook?” A man called out from close by.

  Lord Wareton abruptly ended the kiss and stepped back. She turned to see Sir Neville crossing the veranda towards them, his walking stick tapping against the stone floor.

  “Miss Madeline said I might find you here, getting some air,” Sir Neville said as he approached.

  “She knows me too well,” she said, vowing to admonish Madeline later for sending him to search for her.

  Sir Neville caught sight of Lord Wareton and stopped short.

  Lord Wareton inclined his head. “Sir Neville.”

  “Lord Wareton.” Sir Neville didn’t bow. His eyes narrowed as he glanced from Lord Wareton to Anna and back to Lord Wareton. “Rather a cool night to be out of doors long.”

  “A brief respite from the crush.” Lord Wareton’s tone was mild, but he stood stiffly, his hands clasped behind his back.

  “Indeed.” Sir Neville drummed his thumb against the gold handle of his walking stick.

  Clearly Sir Neville knew of Lord Wareton’s past reputation and was assuming the worst. Would he be so wrong? At least she knew Sir Neville would keep quiet about finding them alone. He would never do anything to harm her reputation.

  Footsteps broke the awkward silence as a woman stepped out onto the terrace and looked in their direction. She was a petite blonde that Anna didn’t recognize. The woman glided forward, her eyes on Lord Wareton.

  For an instant the woman’s face was expressionless, and Anna thought her almost plain. But then she smiled, and her long nose and deep-set eyes were suddenly beautiful.

  “Lord Wareton,” the woman said in a sugary voice, “how wonderful to see you again.” Her honey blond hair was upswept and held in place with diamond pins that sparkled in the soft light.

  Lord Wareton stepped forward and lifted the woman’s hand to his lips.

  “Lady Stratford.” He smiled as he kissed her jeweled fingers, and Lady Stratford stepped closer to him. As she moved, her necklace glittered, a string of emeralds that drew attention to the low neckline of her green and silver crepe gown.

  Lady Stratford glanced at Sir Neville and Anna. “You must introduce your companions.”

  Lord Wareton introduced Sir Neville first. As Lord Wareton presented Anna, he kept his gaze on Lady Stratford.

  “Miss Colbrook,” Lord Wareton said, “Lady Jane Stratford.” Anna forced a polite smile. “Lady Stratford,” Lord Wareton continued, “my cousin’s stepsister, Miss Anna Colbrook.” Anna curtsied, and Lady Stratford quickly assessed her from head to toe.

  Lady Stratford smiled. “You never mentioned that you had any cousins.” Her voice was warm, as intimate as if they hadn’t been apart for the past several years. “I saw your sister just now, dancing with the Duke of Dulverton. How lovely she looks. Has she caught his eye?”

  “They have only just been introduced,” Lord Wareton said.

  “Sometimes it takes only a few moments to become completely enraptured,” Lady Stratford said, her eyes locked with his. There was a brief silence while they continued to stare at each other. Lord Wareton smiled, but the happiness Anna expected he would show seemed to be missing. Or was she merely seeing what she wished to?

  Barely realizing what she was doing, Anna drew her arms around herself.

  “You are cold,” Sir Neville said, offering her his arm. “Shall we step inside?”

  Anna nodded.

  “Will you join us?” Sir Neville asked, looking to Lord Wareton and Lady Stratford. Sir Neville’s tone made it clear that he hoped they wouldn’t.

  “Thank you,” Lady Stratford said, smiling at Lord Wareton, “but I wish to remain here a while longer. The night air is so refreshing.”

  “Excuse us, then,” Sir Neville said.

  Anna glanced back as Sir Neville led her towards the ballroom. Lady Stratford leaned scandalously close to Lord Wareton, murmuring something in his ear. As Anna stepped inside, blinking in the brightness, Lord Wareton’s deep laugh echoed behind her.

  Soon after Sir Neville escorted Miss Colbrook inside, Lady Stratford returned to the ballroom for a dance. Adrian remained on the terrace, looking out across the shadowy gardens but seeing nothing. His mind was filled with thoughts of Miss Colbrook and Sir Neville. He hadn’t noticed any signs of it during his brief encounter with Sir Neville on his second day at Wareton, but tonight there was no doubt in his mind.

  One look at Miss Colbrook and Sir Neville together, and Adrian knew the situation, already ridiculous, was truly impossible. A man recognized possessiveness in another man, and Sir Neville had made it clear that he believed Miss Colbrook was his to protect.

  Of all the men who might be Miss Colbrook’s suitor.

  Were it any other man, Adrian might have reacted differently. He might not have stifled the surprising rush of competitiveness he felt over Miss Colbrook. He might not have backed away and forced himself to seem interested in Lady Stratford. But seeing Sir Neville’s interest in Miss Colbrook had stopped him cold.

  Now he understood why Sir Neville had kept secret what had happened between them. He’d told Adrian it was for the sake of the friendship between their families. Obviously, there was far more than friendship at stake for Sir Neville.

  He must love Miss Colbrook deeply, to have gone to such lengths to protect her. And Sir Neville was far enough above Miss Colbrook in situation that only a great deal of passion could explain such a match.

  Sir Neville’s anger at finding them alone in the dark was completely justified. Being discovered in that situation with any man could compromise her reputation, and Sir Neville believed Adrian to be especially dangerous. Many men would have reacted violently to such a scene, but Sir Neville remained calm, saving Miss Colbrook from embarrassment. And shaming Adrian even more for his behavior.

  Adrian strolled to the far end of the veranda, stopping before an open doorway that looked in on the ballroom. Sir Neville stood nearby, chatting with Madeline but keeping his eyes on Miss Colbrook. Adrian followed Sir Neville’s gaze.

  Miss Colbrook was dancing with a young, freckle-faced gentleman. Her hair shone like copper in the bright candlelight. Her gown rippled as she moved, the silk lifting just enough to reveal her slender ankles and the silver bows on her shoes.

  She was captivating.

  She wasn’t the most stunning woman he’d ever seen, and she usually dressed so plainly that a man could almost miss her beauty at first glance. Yet that afternoon he’d wanted to kiss her with a single-mindedness that alarmed him. Soon after, he’d thought that he’d banished such foolish ideas from his brain.

  Until he danced with her.

  Holding her so close was distressingly arousing. He’d been acutely aware of every movement of her body, each intake of breath and shift of her gaze. Her back had felt molded to his hand, and her long fingers, warm within her soft gloves, fit within his own as if they belonged there. As he’d leaned close to whisper to her, the scent of her had drawn him even nearer, urging him to press his lips against her skin right there and then.

  When the dance ended, he’d quickly regained his senses. But later, when he stepped outside to escape Lady Carlton, he’d still been thinking of the dance when Miss Colbrook suddenly appeared in the shadows.

  As she stood before him in the dim light, annoyed with him for his personal remarks, nervous but stubbornly refusing to admit her fear, alarming ideas stirred in his brain, thoughts he
hadn’t allowed himself in a long time. For years, he’d been a man who thought little of consequences. Once, whether the impulse was an outlandish bet at cards, a reckless carriage race, or the seduction of an attractive woman, he’d acted on his desires almost immediately, with rarely a second thought, drinking away any troublesome pangs of conscience. Three years in the military had finally taught him discipline and restraint. He no longer acted impulsively—until today.

  He’d half-believed that after wanting to kiss her so desperately, the reality would be disappointing and would quickly bring him to his senses. Instead, his desire for her was now far stronger. Her skin was silken, even softer than he expected. And he’d had barely a taste of her soft, full lips before they were interrupted.

  He was shocked that she’d even allowed him to kiss her, and that she hadn’t run away long before he took her in his arms. She was clearly drawn to him, but she must know as well as he did how hopeless such an attraction was.

  Yet it was a powerful temptation, catching him pathetically off guard. Touching her had been a grave mistake.

  For a moment after he’d kissed her, he’d wondered—what if he seduced her? Why shouldn’t he take his pleasure with her and then see her married off? He could add to her inheritance and make her an excellent match, find her a husband who would tolerate an indiscretion in his wife’s past.

  The thought of behaving so sordidly filled him with disgust.

  Even just kissing her had been shameful. Of all the women with whom he could possibly dally, choosing her was the height of insanity. She was too beneath him in position for an honorable courtship, and she was too virtuous for anything else. Worst of all, even if he wasn’t her guardian, she lived in his household under his protection. To compromise her was to dishonor his own family.

  Even without the complication of Sir Neville wanting her, it was impossible, unthinkable, ridiculous. He must forget all about his attraction to her. By interrupting them, Sir Neville had saved him from possibly making a grave mistake. He would go inside and find Lady Stratford. His future might be with her; it certainly wasn’t with Miss Colbrook. Pursuing her would only lead to scandal and pain that could extend far beyond the two of them.

  As the set ended, he turned and walked toward the doorway that led to one of the ballroom’s antechambers. He stepped inside, turned a corner in the hallway, and nearly stumbled into Miss Colbrook.

  “Lord Wareton,” she stammered. He couldn’t tell whether she’d been searching for him or not. If she was angry with him for having stolen a kiss, she gave no sign of it.

  “How are you enjoying the party?” she asked. Her cheeks were attractively flushed from dancing.

  “It is tolerable.” He took a step back and brushed imaginary lint from his sleeve. He glanced at her only long enough to notice her face lose some of its color. Had she really expected him to react differently, and not immediately regret kissing her?

  “Miss Colbrook,” he said, “allow me to apologize for my behavior earlier. It was inexcusable.” He adjusted his cuffs while he spoke. Coward that he was, he couldn’t meet her gaze. “It was a foolish impulse.”

  Except he wanted to kiss her again. And do a great deal more. Which is why he must keep his distance from her, at least until his absurd infatuation passed.

  “Even if it were more than a fleeting impulse,” he continued, his voice a harsh whisper, “such a relationship is simply not possible.” He met her gaze, and the pain in her eyes shamed him.

  He had to get away from her. Now.

  “Excuse me,” he said. “I have promised the next set to Lady Stratford.” He stepped around her and strode away.

  Anna watched him disappear into the ballroom. She was a fool to be surprised. Of course, he was right. It was impossible. He was an earl, descended from noble bloodlines on both sides of his family, and she was a commoner. Nothing could erase the fact that her father had worked for a living and his father before him. But a foolish impulse? Those words stung far too much.

  For a few absurd moments after he kissed her, she’d dared to hope he was as attracted to her as she was to him. He must find her attractive or he wouldn’t have tried to kiss her, but he obviously regretted his impulse as soon as he saw Lady Stratford. And why shouldn’t he? Lady Stratford was beautiful, titled, rich, the daughter of a gentleman, and descended from nobility—his equal in every way.

  But why had he toyed with her? His actions didn’t match what she believed of him, or at least, what she wished to believe of him.

  She must force herself to see him clearly and not be blinded by her attraction to him. He couldn’t be trusted. She knew he’d behaved dishonorably, as he evidently kept mistresses, and still she’d allowed him to kiss her. What man, with a woman as moon-eyed over him as she was, wouldn’t be tempted to steal a kiss? She had no one to blame but herself.

  She stepped back out onto the veranda and wandered towards the spot where they’d kissed. A gentle breeze tickled the back of her arms and the nape of her neck as she stopped at a window that looked in on the crowded, noisy ballroom. Even outside, the sweet aroma of beeswax from the scores of melting candles permeated the air.

  A new set had just begun, an allemande, and Lady Stratford and Lord Wareton were paired in the center of the ballroom. The contrast between them was striking. Lady Stratford’s petite curves and sparkling jewels were all the more stunning against Lord Wareton’s tall, muscular build and unadorned clothes. Both were handsome and elegant, and they moved together with breathtaking grace. They had obviously danced together many times.

  After a moment, Anna forced herself to look away. There was a sinking feeling in her abdomen, similar to when she’d indulged in too many glasses of Madeira at a dinner a few months before, only this time the balcony didn’t spin along with her stomach.

  She wished she could return home, but she couldn’t go alone. Cecelia was having a grand time. Many gentlemen, including the duke, had taken an interest in meeting Cecelia, and she was never without a dance partner. She glowed under the attention, her eyes bright with happiness.

  Madeline was enjoying herself as well, chatting with friends and dancing. This was one of the first balls she’d attended, and she looked so cheerful that Anna couldn’t bear to ask her to leave. Lady Carlton would never abandon Cecelia and as for asking Lord Wareton to escort her home—Anna would sooner spend the evening with Mrs. Lutton.

  But leaving early would only let Lord Wareton know how deeply he’d upset her. She drew herself taller. Let him believe her feelings were no more than a fleeting impulse as well. Indeed, perhaps they would turn out to be only that. They must be, for anything else was pointless.

  The set ended and the musicians paused for a break. Soon people would wander onto the veranda, and she didn’t wish to be seen out here, moping. She tucked her loose hair back into her chignon and stepped into the ballroom. She scanned the room for Sir Neville but instead caught Lady Stratford’s eye. She was with Lady Carlton now, and Lord Wareton was nowhere to be seen.

  Lady Stratford smiled at Anna, and she and Lady Carlton strolled in her direction. Lady Carlton looked smug, fanning herself slowly, the feathers on her headdress fluttering as she approached.

  “There you are, Miss Colbrook,” Lady Carlton said. “Have you met Lady Stratford?”

  “I have already had the pleasure,” Anna said.

  “Then you know Miss Colbrook is Miss Madeline’s stepsister?” Lady Carlton asked, turning to Lady Stratford. “Her mother was Lord Gerard’s second wife. Her father was a shipping merchant.” Lady Carlton smiled at Lady Stratford as if this were a private joke she would understand. To Anna’s surprise, a slight wrinkle appeared in Lady Stratford’s brow and she narrowed her eyes at Lady Carlton.

  “Lady Carlton,” Anna said, peering over the older woman’s shoulder, “I do believe Cecelia’s lace is slipping.”

  “Heavens!” Lady Carlton said, “And she is about to dance another set with the duke. I must go.” Lady Stratford nod
ded graciously as Lady Carlton turned and pushed her way through the crowd toward Cecelia.

  Lady Stratford smiled. “I am eternally in your debt, Miss Colbrook.”

  “I shall have to make it up to Cecelia somehow,” Anna said.

  Lady Stratford laughed. “If you will not think me too forward, I was hoping you would answer a question. Would you sit with me for a moment?”

  “Of course.” Lady Stratford took Anna’s arm and led her to an unoccupied settee at the edge of the ballroom.

  “I may have only just met you,” Lady Stratford said as she settled herself beside Anna, “but I know an honest face when I see one. Will you forgive me asking a somewhat indelicate question?”

  “You have my permission to ask whatever you wish,” Anna said, curious. Close up, she was struck by the contrast between Lady Stratford’s porcelain skin and golden hair, which made her seem almost angelic, and her cool eyes which, pretty as they were, seemed to belong to a much older woman.

  “Thank you. It concerns Lord Wareton.” Lady Stratford made certain no one else was within earshot and lowered her voice. “I am sure you have heard that he and I once formed an attachment.” Anna nodded. “I hoped you could provide insight into his current situation.”

  “I am not sure what you mean.”

  “I ask if he is currently involved with anyone,” Lady Stratford said, “if he has formed a new attachment.” Not unless a fleeting impulse qualifies, Anna thought. Or a mistress or two.

  “I fear you are asking the wrong person,” Anna said.

  “I know it is terribly inappropriate of me to ask,” Lady Stratford said, “but where Lord Wareton is concerned, I often lose my reserve. We were quite fond of each other many years ago. I should not press this upon you, having just met you, but I must know before considering renewing our friendship that I shall not be interfering with any present happiness of his.”

  Beautiful, apparently not snobbish, and goodhearted as well. Anna’s mood plummeted.